#the winder soldier x reader

[collaredsoldat]

Condition.

summary: Soldat refuses to sit down, you notice he's in pain.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP | Post!SA | Descriptions of SA | PTSD symptoms | Brief flashbacks of SA | Non sexual nudity | Swearing | Descriptions of physical injury and sexual punishments

a/n: I saw someone caught one of the things I wrote earlier in hcs and I knew at some point I was going to delve deeper into it. So that's the push I needed. This one is potentially triggering thus no tags have been added to this post. Unedited; I have so may wips rn, I will check for mistakes later. ;; wc: 4.4k

You weren't too sure what the problem was.

Soldat didn't like to sit down. You thought maybe it was because he felt like he had to be on guard at all times, fresh out of HYDRA and paranoid the agents would somehow find his whereabouts, then forcibly break down your door and tear him away from your apartment that he deemed safe enough.

You noticed a pattern in Soldat's actions whenever he did reluctantly lower himself into a seated position. With each attempt, you saw a subtle but unmistakable wince or a barely audible hiss escaping through his clenched teeth, betraying his discomfort. These seated interludes were invariably brief, lasting a few seconds before he would abruptly rise to his feet once more.

The simple act of lowering himself onto a chair seemed to require an immense effort, though he tried desperately to conceal his discomfort behind a façade of indifference. The careful dance of pain that displayed anytime he attempted to lower himself down on the ground, or apply any pressure at all to his backside, shot up his spine and made him think twice.

On occasion, you noticed him favoring one side of his body as he sat, shifting his weight in what appeared to be an attempt to alleviate some hidden source of pain. But, more often than not, Soldat opted to forgo sitting entirely, preferring to maintain a standing posture that allowed for a quick reaction to any perceived threat.

It had only been a few days.

He maintained his resolute silence, stubbornly refusing to utter a single word. The only exception had been a barely audible thank you in Russian after you had carefully and gently bathed him. His demeanor remained guarded and defensive, occasionally punctuated by sharp, guttural exclamations of 'Нет' whenever you approached too closely. His words were replaced by growling and baring his teeth as if that were somehow off putting enough. He reacted as though you posed an imminent threat, despite your efforts to appear non-threatening and helpful.

You couldn’t really blame him, at the end of the day. His body bore the signs of telltale abuse and mistreatment for god knows how long.

As the days slowly passed, you grew increasingly concerned about his deteriorating condition. The pain etched across his features seemed to intensify with each passing hour, and you really wanted to confront him about his condition. He stayed in the spare room, his weary frame silhouetted against the window and sheer curtains guarding the glass. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion but remained vigilant, constantly scanning the darkened streets below.

Sleep had become a luxury he could ill afford, severe conditioning and sleep deprivation made it almost impossible for him to fall asleep naturally unless he completely collapsed from exhaustion. His paranoia and discomfort didn’t help his need to rest. The toll of his sleepless nights was clearly visible in the dark circles under his eyes and the slight tremor in his hand as he maintained his ceaseless vigil.

"Soldat..." You spoke gently, not wanting to startle him. Despite your cautious approach, your tone didn't have the desired effect. He still flinched visibly when you called his name, his body tensing as if bracing for impact. He turned to face you, his movements stiff and guarded, his eyes wary as the soldier watched you.

"It's okay, I just came to see you," you reassured him, your voice soft and soothing. You paused for a brief moment, allowing your words to sink in, before continuing with soft concern, "Are you doing okay? Are you in any pain?" As you spoke, you took a tentative step into the room, slow and deliberate to avoid frightening him further.

Soldat's reaction was immediate and instinctive to your step. He took one step back in response to your advance, his body language screaming discomfort and distrust. However, his retreat was cut short as his shoulder made contact with the cold, unyielding surface of the wall behind him. The realization that he had nowhere left to go flashed across his face, a fleeting expression of panic quickly masked by a forced blank stare. He stood there, cornered and tense, like a wounded animal trapped with no escape route.

You knew better than to approach too quickly. Experience had taught you that if he felt cornered or threatened in any way, he'd lash out instinctively. Although he hadn't physically harmed you before, you were aware of his potential to do so. He was a goddamn super soldier, and you were just a civilian. He could snap your neck with one arm. The tension in the air grew and you could sense his unease increasing with each passing moment.

"It's okay, I promise..." You slowly raised your hands, palms outward, trying to placate him. You were very cautious with your actions, designed to show him that you harbored no ill intent. You maybe hoped he’d recognize you were harmless, but understood why he still felt wariness in himself. You remained rooted to the spot where you stood, consciously avoiding any sudden movements that might startle him or exacerbate the fear you had inadvertently stirred. "I just want to see how you're handling yourself... you seem to be in pain, and I want to help. That's all I'm here for, nothing more."

You paused, carefully observing his body language. His already stiff posture became increasingly rigid as he pressed his back firmly against the wall. It was as if he was trying to conceal something from your view or instinctively protect an injury. His wince was unmistakable even in the dark room, as clear as a beacon in the night. Your ears picked up the sharp, hissing intake of breath when he inadvertently applied too much pressure to his backside. The sound was a clear indicator of his discomfort, and it only reinforced your concern.

"Please...Soldat, let me have a look at you?" You whispered softly, your voice barely audible in the tense atmosphere. Your heart ached with the desire to ease his suffering, to offer a gentle touch that might soothe his pain or provide the comfort he had been robbed from. You yearned for his trust, to create a haven where he could lower his defenses and find solace in your presence instead of constantly feeling so anxious and alone.

The air between you grew thick with anticipation, punctuated only by the shallow, measured breaths you both took. In the depths of his eyes, you could see the internal struggle unfolding—a battle between ingrained wariness and the desperate need and hope for comfort. Time seemed to stretch as he weighed his options, his body still rigid with uncertainty. Finally, after several long minutes, a subtle shift occurred in his demeanor.

Slowly, he began to peel himself away from the wall that had been his refuge. His body language was tinged with nervousness, his gaze never left you as he inched forward, scrutinizing your every breath, every twitch, as if anticipating a sudden betrayal. The distance between you diminished gradually until he came to a halt by the edge of the bed, his posture still coiled with tension, ready to retreat at the slightest provocation.

"There we are...good job," you offered gentle words of encouragement, mirroring the approach you had taken during his bathing session. The positive reinforcement had proven effective then, so you decided to employ the same strategy in this situation. "I can see you're in pain. Could you point to where it hurts?" You inquired softly, fully aware that he might not respond verbally given his usual restraint from speaking.

For a brief period, he remained completely still, his body language giving no indication of his thoughts. Then he shifted his posture, turning in such a way that his back was now fully exposed to your view. However, without the aid of words, the gesture alone didn't provide much clarity. The area of discomfort could be anywhere along his spine or surrounding muscles. "Is it your back that's causing you pain?" You asked, hoping for a more specific response.

He shook his head slightly, a subtle movement that nonetheless clearly conveyed a negative answer.

"Okay…is it your legs that are hurting?" You ventured, this query elicited a slight shrug from him, a gesture that hinted at possible agreement but still left room for uncertainty. You found yourself at a loss, unsure of how to proceed or phrase your next question in a way that would yield more precise information. After a moment's hesitation, you decided to be more direct in your approach, hoping it wasn't what you thought, but part of you knew deep down that it probably was. "You don't sit down very often. Is there some discomfort in your bottom?"

He almost made a scoff, his brow furrowing slightly at the unfamiliar sound. The concept of shyness was foreign to him, it contrasted to the harsh commands he was accustomed to hearing, vulgarity being barked at him about his body and how he looked. Soldat's eyes, initially narrowing with a hint of suspicion, quickly softened as he processed your tone. His gaze met yours, and he offered a gentle yet subtle nod. You noticed a flicker of discomfort cross his features, leaving you puzzled about the source of his pain. Hesitantly, you spoke again, "Can I see?"

He bristled instantly, a cocktail of emotions surging through him. Vulnerability and aggression warred within, his muscles tensing as if preparing for a fight. He had to remind himself that this was you standing before him, not them - not the towering figures from his past. You weren't one of the men who had loomed over him, using their size to intimidate and control. You weren't here to pin him down or force his compliance. Instead, you were asking for permission. The concept was so foreign, so at odds with everything he knew, that it almost felt like a trap. The idea that he might have any sort of autonomy, any say in what happened to his own body was terrifying.

Your simple act of requesting permission sent his mind reeling. It stirred up a maelstrom of conflicting instincts within him. Part of him yearned to seize this newfound agency, to exert control over his own choices. Yet another part, deeply ingrained and conditioned by years of abuse, screamed at him to flee. The mere possibility of having a choice was so overwhelming that it almost made him want to turn tail and run, to retreat to the familiar confines of obedience and subservience.

After a moment of internal struggle, he made a decision. He shifted closer to you.

His body language was a mix of caution and tentative trust as he allowed you to examine him. He was clad in the clothes you had provided, a simple black tank top and a pair of comfortable sweatpants. It wasn’t much, by any standards, but when he arrived at your home you had no men’s clothes at all. You hastily had to buy him an outfit of some kind. At least these clothes were stretchy, he hadn’t even told you his size.

His old uniform had been in a state of utter disrepair - torn, filthy, and reeking of neglect. You recalled the arduous process of attempting to salvage it, for whatever reason. The washing machine had groaned and protested, nearly breaking down after a single cycle as it battled against the ingrained grime and wear.

You delicately hooked your fingers into the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, slowly and cautiously tugging them down his thighs. This was different from when you had bathed him earlier; at that time, you hadn't been able to get a proper look at his condition. The warm water from the bath had caused his skin to flush, making any injuries blend seamlessly with the reddened areas. You hadn’t really looked at his lower areas either, your primary concern then had been to cleanse him thoroughly, rather than to scrutinize his body for signs of harm.

As the sweatpants descended to his knees, your eyes widened in shock, taking in the full extent of the damage. Angry welts and livid red lashes crisscrossed the backs of his thighs, creating a horrifying tapestry of abuse. The marks were severely inflamed, with some sporting small, beaded clots of blood that were desperately trying to peek through the swollen skin in an attempt to heal the split flesh. The pattern and severity of the injuries suggested that he had been repeatedly struck with a stick or a similar rigid object, each blow leaving its cruel imprint on his tender skin.

Your gaze followed the trail of lashes as they disappeared beneath the hem of his boxers, leading you to the realization that his buttocks likely bore the brunt of this vicious assault, explaining his evident discomfort and aversion to applying any sort of pressure to that area.

Steeling yourself for what you might find, you reached up to carefully peel down his boxers. As you did so, you offered him words of gentle reassurance, trying to comfort him since this was an extremely vulnerable position. "I'm just gonna take a look, okay?" you murmured soothingly as you slowly shimmied the underwear down to join the sweatpants at his knees, careful not to irritate his welts. Your suspicions were confirmed as the fabric fell away, revealing the full extent of the damage.

His buttocks were covered in a dense network of welts and bruises, the marks here even more numerous and severe than those on his thighs. Bruising painted his backside in various shades of purple, blue, and black, with the deepest bruises appearing almost pitch against his pale skin. The sight was enough to make your stomach churn, a mix of sympathy and anger rising within you at the thought of the pain he must be enduring.

Your gaze was drawn to the sight of dried blood on his inner thighs, your brow furrowing as you looked at the obvious bleeding that had been occurring. Without thinking, you instinctively reached out to get a closer look at the area, wondering if there was an open wound he had been concealing. You didn’t want him to have an infection, especially in that tender spot. Your hand gently caressed his cheek, gently trying to spread him to look.

Soldat's reaction to your sudden touch was immediate and he turned away from you, his movements awkward and uncoordinated due to his pants still being bunched around his knees. His eyes were wide with fear and anger, locked onto you as he glared fiercely.

"Не трогай меня!" He snapped, his voice sharp and filled with warning. The Russian words hung in the air between you as he stood rigidly, facing you with a defensive posture.

For a second, you were sure he was going to lash out at you physically with the way he postured up. But you realized that beneath the aggressive front he was putting on, fear was the dominant emotion. He continued to back away from you, his movements jerky and uncoordinated because of the way his pants were around his legs.

As he backed away, his knees collided with the edge of the mattress behind him. The impact caused him to lose balance, and he fell awkwardly into a seated position on the bed. The moment he made contact with the mattress, a sharp, pained sound escaped his lips, wincing as his face contorting in a grimace that showed the intense discomfort he felt from sitting. The force of his body weight had him sit harder than normal, the collision with the bed felt like he had fallen on his ass on the floor.

Almost as quickly as he sat, he struggled to his feet once more. His leg muscles flexed as he jerked himself upward, the sudden movement seemed to intensify his pain and you could see his knees trembling, threatening to give way beneath him. The agony that shot through his body was evident in every line of his face and every quiver of his muscles. He reached out and gripped the edge of the bed, trying to keep himself upright and not fall down to his knees.

Your heart ached seeing him so scared and hurt, especially in this sick way. You took a step forward, your hand held out as you cooed at him. "Soldat, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touched without telling you. But you're bleeding, I just wanted to see where it was coming from, that's all." You attempted to explain your innocent reasoning, but he felt so much anxiety at the moment, he didn't trust you to just look. Those wild eyes made contact with yours, a look that told you to back off.

So you did. You didn't want to freak him out any more than he was right now.

His trembling legs felt uncontrollable, finally betraying him as he slowly collapsed to the floor, crumbling like a wilting flower. He surrendered to the soft embrace of the plush carpet beneath him, settling down on his side. He carefully curled into a tight ball, desperately trying to ignore the searing, relentless pain that radiated from his ass. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming now that he had stimulated the pain by his accidental sit, causing him to retreat further into himself. It didn't help that memories were flooding his vision, he just saw boots surrounding him and vicious words being spat at him.

You observed his distress from a distance, recognizing the need for space in this. You made the decision to quietly exit the room, allowing him the solitude he seemed to desperately cling to. Attempting to intervene or offer comfort at this time would likely prove counterproductive, pushing too hard or too soon would only serve to exacerbate the situation, potentially causing him to withdraw even further. You wanted him to trust you so badly, but that meant patience was your best friend, and you required it for this delicate situation.

From what you had seen, your mind wandered to possible causes. You knew of the beating and relentless torture he faced, for whatever reason the idea of sexual assault hadn't crossed your mind until now. However...the blood trickling down his inner thigh felt like a slap in the face at your ignorance.

Of course they would do that. HYDRA was full of sick degenerates that were hungry for taboo and inhumane activities. The men in charge got away with everything, and being an asset in HYDRA was less than being a pet, a mere toy for pleasure and consumption. Soldat was basically just a doll for them to puppet around and fuck with.

After several long minutes had passed, you made your way back to the room. Soldat was still curled up tightly on the floor, his arms wrapped protectively around his face and his knees drawn up close to his chest. The poor soldier looked so pitiful as he curled into a small ball like that, as if he were shielding himself from an impending threat. Your heart ached at the sight, deep-seated fear must have driven him to such a defensive position.

You approached him.

Your feet moved silently across the plush carpet of the room, each step measured and deliberate so as not to startle him. As you drew closer, you lowered yourself to the ground, settling a few feet away from his huddled form. You wanted to be near enough to offer comfort, but far enough to give him the space he clearly needed.

"Soldat..." Your voice was barely above a whisper, soft and soothing to keep his frayed nerves calm. "Do you want me to help you clean up? I promise, I won't do anything you're not comfortable with. I'm not... I'm nothing like those bastards who hurt you." The last words came out with a hint of venom, your disgust for those who had mistreated him evident in your tone.

There was a moment of tense silence before Soldat eventually responded. He hesitantly lifted his head, the sight of his face made your heart clench. His face was flushed a deep red with random blotches, his eyes were glossier than you had ever seen them, brimming with unshed tears. The vulnerability in his gaze was almost unbearable to look at, making your chest feel tighter with each breath. You watched as he visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. His head inclined ever so slightly in what you interpreted as a nod of agreement.

Encouraged by his response, you continued in the same gentle tone, "I promise you, it'll help those welts feel better. Bit of cool water and some ointment will soothe the pain and help the inflammation." You paused, talking as if you were speaking to a frightened animal or scared child. "And I really need to make sure you don't have any tears or excessive bleeding down there. That could lead to infections or other bad things that will require more serious care, and I don't want your condition to worsen. I swear I'll be as gentle as possible."

A beat.

Then two.

Then three.

Soldat gave you another slow nod, just enough for you to notice his compliance. "I'm going to go grab some things, I'll be right back." You went to the bathroom where you kept a first aid kit, not really sure what you needed, but it contained some gels and ointments that you knew would at least soothe the swelling skin.

You carefully settled yourself beside him and reached for a bottle of soothing ointment, it was typically used for burns but equally effective for welts. The cool, smooth glass of the bottle felt reassuring in your palm as you unscrewed the cap. You squeezed a generous amount onto your fingertips, the translucent gel glistening and cooling your fingers already.

You lowered your hand to his ass, your fingers ghosting over his skin before making full contact. You tenderly began to spread the healing substance over one of his cheeks, ensuring every affected area was covered. You made sure not to press too hard, and to get it down his thighs too.

At the initial contact, his body tensed involuntarily. The sudden coolness of the gel against his heated skin elicited a sharp intake of breath, followed by a long, shuddering exhale. His mind reeled, struggling to process this new sensation. He never experienced the soothing balm of pain relief; it was an alien concept to him.

Throughout his time in HYDRA, he had been conditioned to endure, to bear the full brunt of every punishment, every ache, every sting. The mantra that had been drilled into him echoed in his mind: pain was the sculptor of his being, the unyielding order he was meant to follow. It was through suffering, they said, that he would be molded into their ideal.

And so, he had taken it all - every lash, every blow, every tormenting penetration they forced onto him. The pain had been relentless, a constant companion that he had learned to expect and accept, no matter how intense or unbearable it became.

But right now, things were different. For the first time in decades, the familiar sting of pain was gradually being replaced by a soothing coolness that spread across his skin. The sensation was so different, of relief, of comfort, of care. The contrast between what he had always known and what he was now feeling was stark and overwhelming, almost triggering him to react and wipe it away, to feel that horrible pain once again. He at least knew who he was, who he was supposed to be with the pain accompanying him like his shadow. Without it, the sliver of knowledge of his being was gone.

"Most of the lashes are already clotted to heal so...there's no need to bandage them." You spoke calmly, satisfied with the ointment being spread on him. "But I will wipe away the bit of blood from between your legs, okay?"

Soldat, still reeling from the memories plaguing his mind, somehow understood your words and gave a tentative nod.

He felt the warm, damp cloth gently press against his sensitive inner thigh, the soothing heat gradually softening the dried, crusted blood. With each careful stroke, you cleaned away the remnants of his ordeal. Even after it had long been over, his body carried the wounds of it, reminding him of the painful experiences. Your touch was tender, as if you were handling something precious and fragile. The level of care you were showing him left him with feelings he couldn't quite decipher. He struggled to understand and accept your gentle treatment with his own self-perception. You approached him with a kindness and respect typically reserved for fellow human beings, a category he had long since excluded himself from.

He was a machine.

He was a toy.

He was HYDRA’s fist.

He was not a person.

You delicately cleansed between the affected areas, ensuring no trace of blood remained. Your movements were slow and deliberate as you navigated around the swollen, tender flesh, careful with the area since you knew it was very intimate and you didn’t want him to feel like he were being threatened. After all the blood was washed away, you applied a cooling balm specifically formulated to alleviate inflammation and discomfort in that sensitive region.

"There we go...all done," you murmured softly. Your hand was so warm and comforting, trailed along his back in a gesture of reassurance. To your surprise, he didn't flinch or pull away from your touch, a small victory in itself considering he would with any other kind of physical gesture. Mustering his strength, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, twisting slightly to survey the damage inflicted upon his body.

Soldat turned away as quickly as he saw it, his mouth contorting into a pained grimace. The soldier couldn't bear to look anymore, his mind reeling from the vivid memories that assaulted him.

He felt the phantom strikes of various implements of torture - the sharp sting of canes and crops swinging down against his ass.

The bruising impact of hands and boots, the searing pain of teeth sinking into his abused flesh, and the cruel bite of leather belts. He especially hated when the buckle hit his groin.

These ghostly sensations, etched deep into his psyche, haunting him with the horrors he endured, making him flinch involuntarily as if the torment was happening all over again.

"It's okay." You whispered, "You are safe now." Your hand rubbed circles on his back, you'd keep this in mind, this kind of assault he endured. It was complicate things in the future, but for now all you cared about was his comfortability. You continued to whisper comforting things, pulling a blanket over him that had been on the floor by his makeshift bed. You draped it over his backside, covering him and giving him some kind of security with feeling covered up.

For the first time, he seemed to be accepting your touch without reservations, as you felt the soldier's back muscles relax under your palm.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest

[pietrotheavenger]

roommates (bucky barnes)

ALIVE

summary: the mundanity of being roommates with bucky.

pairings: au!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: sadness bc this is the last part :( fluff & swearing

a/n: last part of this series! can’t believe i actually finished it! thank you everyone for reading! i hope to see notifications from all of you on my future writings! some might say i rushed this ending. and to those people i say fuck you this is my fan fiction.

series masterlist

“y/n, i know i sprung everything on you really quickly and i just wanted to know where your heads at,” steve blurted. he smiled sheepishly and added, “mind if i come in?”

she swallowed hard and tightened her grip on the door handle. “actually, i think it’s better if you don’t.”

his face fell and his pink lips parted to form an “o” of surprise.

she took a deep breath before beginning her speech. “i’m sorry, but i can’t go with you to seattle. i would’ve loved to continue our relationship and see where it went but there’s something about new york that i just selfishly can’t leave. new york has my heart. i can’t leave the things i have here. i can’t leave my love here to chase after you. i really value you as a person but we should end things here.”

he didn’t respond for a moment. he nodded his head, avoiding her eyes before making intense eye contact. “okay. i respect your decision. you know how to find me, okay? good luck.” he added the last part as an after thought before rubbing the back of his neck and waving as he walked back to his apartment.

she closed the door and rested her back against it, exhaling slowly. she closed her eyes and regained her composure before returning back to the bedroom. she practiced her smile before opening the door.

bucky had heard every word. she was serious. she wanted him. she loved him. he felt as if his chest could explode.

“it was-” she began but she was interrupted by bucky grabbing her face.

“y/n,” he said.

“yes?”

“run away with me,” he whispered.

“what’re you talking about?” she froze.

“let’s run away. let’s run away and get married. let’s run away,” he repeated himself like a mad man.

“me?”

“no, steve. of course you.”

she grabbed his hands and pulled them away from her face. she guided him to the bed and they sat down.

“what the hell?”

“let’s just do it. i love you and my family has too much property all over europe and we can just settle wherever we want. let’s get married, y/n. let’s go full send. we’ve done all that relationship shit. i know you better than i know myself and you know me better than you know yourself. we don’t need to do that dating bullshit. you make me feel alive and that’s all that matters. let’s just fucking get married.”

“i love you, too,” she said, gently. “but we haven’t even kissed.”

he grabbed her face again and crashed his lips into hers. time froze and they were the only people that existed for those few blissful moments. she felt her soul leave her body in the most fulfilling way. she didn’t know it was possible to feel so content at feeling so disassociated. y/n wanted to suffocate in those moments. what a way it would be to die, in his arms. she wouldn’t mind at all.

“are we moving too fast?” he questioned. he had never felt so vulnerable before.

“yeah. but frankly my dear, i don’t give a damn,” she answered. “i love you,” she said, again.

“i love you,” he echoed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “what do you say?” he kneeled in front of her. “i don’t have a ring right now, but y/n y/l/n, will you marry me?”

“me?” she pointed to herself, tearfully.

“yes,” he laughed. “i love you,” he couldn’t help but say.

she threw her arms around his neck. “i love you,” she replied. “yes, i’ll marry you. a thousand times, yes.”

“okay, i’ve been thinking about this for like five minutes and i have a plan,” bucky pulled away after a minute. his eyes were red and he wiped away a tear.

she cupped his face and placed a gentle kiss on his soft lips. “tell me all about it, fiancé of mine.”

-

the next morning, y/n and bucky awaited their flight at the airport. he had dropped finn off at his parents house while she frantically packed for the two of them. now, she sat with her head resting on his shoulder and their hands linked.

“mm, i almost forgot,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “picked up a little something for you.” he pulled out a ring. a simple gold band with a small diamond set in it.

“wow,” she breathed. “we’re definitely moving too fast,” she giggled as he slipped the ring onto her finger. “but i don’t give a fuck. we can be engaged for ten years before we get married or we can get married in ten minutes and none of it will matter to me, because i’m in love with you, bucky. the only thing that matters is that i have you.”

“you don’t know how happy you make me,” he said. “you truly don’t.”

“we need to stop being so cheesy or i’ll throw up. can you call me ugly or something?”

“y/n y/l/n, you’re ugly,” he deadpanned.

a smile spread on her face. “you’re fucking uglier, bucky barnes.”

infinity tags:

@ssweet-empowerment ; @stardustandbucky ; @abuckyrogersworld ; @freightcarcap ; @c-a-v-a-l-r-y ; @coffeebooksandfandom ; @somethingmoreclever ; @2dreamcatcher8 ; @illegalportkey ; @fuckthatfeeling ; @xxashy999xx ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @tuliptx ; @wwhitewwolff ; @thisismysecrethappyplace ; @appreciating-chase-brody ; @renanyx ; @maladaptive-ninja-returns ; @marvelrose ; @sophiealiice ; @dreamsfollowed99 ; @galacticstxrdust ; @fitzsimmons-is-forever ; @dumblani ;

series taglist:

@goodiebluebox ; @tuttigunner ; @leaningtowerof-not-pisa ; @callmedaddys-blog ; @highfuncti0ningfangirl ; @liffydaze ; @capisicles ; @randomfangirl1701 ; @redstarstan ; @directionerfae ; @aurorcarter ; @maladaptive-ninja-returns ; @mybearyarmy ; @lokissoul ; @xnegansgirlx ; @shaboibucky ; @steve-hasmyheart ; @awwwwinnn1 ; @everythingbooknerd ; @the-whitewolfie ; ​@jepenner ; ​@im-a-light-child ; ​@captainam-erika-trash ; @​sadanddeadsoul ; @​feelmyroarrrr ; @​infinity-star-wars ;

[har-rison-s]

Tiny Dancer - 2

I don’t quite know why I’m here, one of my old empty notebooks under my hand and a pen between the fingers of my right hand. Maybe because of my bad memory? Trying to write down everything I can still remember about my long life so I would have the so-called ‘storage’ in my mind for other things. Maybe I’m writing a book and I’m thinking of publishing it, knowing very well that the publishers will think it’s fiction. That would keep me from exposing myself and the ones that have joined me in this long journey.I guess I will have to start with the very beginning. 

Well… it was a lovely day of January, Tuesday the 29th. It was an ordinary day, people were going to work, buying coffee, greeting their colleagues, having their lunch break. The country and the whole world was getting fixed after the first World War. My parents weren’t the lucky ones on this day, because my mother was in terrible pain and my father was anxious. 

I was being brought to the world that day.

Terrible enough, my mother only got a tiny glimpse of me before her body gave out and she layed breathless and unmoving in the hospital bed. I didn’t even see her. I only know how she looked from photographs. I never knew her, never knew even a flicker of what she was like.

My father raised me, took care of me, taught me everything a father could, a grieving father at that. He wanted me to do great things in life, and he ensured many possibilities of that. Took me any place he could, gave me teachers and opportunities. I hardly missed any.

I was a cute little toddler, a beautiful girl. Curly, dark, brownish-red hair tied up in pigtails with ribbons. Wide chocolate brown eyes with thick eyelashes. My cheeks were red. I remember I used to wear this white dress with red polka dots on it and I loved it. It was my favourite dress and father always made me wear it when we went somewhere, and that was a lot. Now I think he suspected I could impress or cause adoration in any of his business partners or clients.

We visited the carnivals, musical concerts, operas, theatres and museums. We were quite wealthy, you could say. Living in New York and still being wealthy was a miracle then. We weren’t missing a thing, except for my mother. 

And that eventually overtook my father. After my mother, I was the only thing he loved most in the world. My mother was the love of his life and he gave her everything he could. And when I was born and she died, he only wanted the best for me and did everything he could, for me. He rarely smiled, but when he did, it made me the happiest kid in the world. All I wish now is to see that beautiful smile once again, at least once. 

Six months since I’d turned sixteen, he passed. It was depression. I was devastated when I found out at the hospital. He’d taken so many sleeping pills that they killed him. I don’t really know how it felt to know that I failed to keep him sane. I can still remember that day like it was yesterday. But it’s one I try to forget out of all.

“Father?” My sweet voice cuts through the silence. I wander through all our rooms, already exhausted after my performance in the opera, wanting to do nothing more than to put me and my father to sleep. “Daddy, where are you?” I can’t find him for the life of me. He couldn’t be in my room, now, could he? 

But I stumble into my room. There’s a light coming from my bathroom. Why hasn’t he answered me, if he’s in there? The door is… it’s halfway open. I can’t hear any sound coming from inside the room. Is there something wrong? Is he sleeping in my bathroom? For what ever reason… Is he even in there?

I push open the door and at first, I don’t react at all. And then I see him. Lying on his stomach, head turned to one side, the eye I can see open slightly. “Father?!” I exclaim, horrified. 

I kneel down in front of him quickly and turn him on his back. He’s heavy and unconscious. What is wrong? I shake him desperately, but no response. I put my ear next to his chest to make sure he’s breathing. Maybe he’s only in a deep sleep. But I can’t feel or hear any proof of the fact that he could be breathing. 

“Father, wake up! What's happened?!” I panic. I don’t think this is good at all. I have to get help.

I stand up and run out of the room, but not before my eyes linger on him for a bit longer. He’s pale. I pick up our kitchen phone’s reciever and turn the numbers correctly so I could call the ambulance. I make the call, almost bursting into tears and return to my father lying in the bathroom. The ambulance base isn’t far from where we live, so they’ll be here quite soon.

It’s only then that I notice there’s something in his left hand. I reach over his body to open his palm and see what it is. It’s only a folded piece of paper. Quite important paper, actually. It has my name on it. 

But I didn’t notice the pills on the bathroom counter, nor the empty bottles that once contained them that were lying next to my father’s body. I was too shocked and determined to help him to notice anything besides my own father. 

The ambulance came and he was rushed to the hospital, with me following suit. And while I waited for a doctor to come update me on my father’s condition, I read what was in the folded piece of paper with my name on it. It was a testament, my father leaving everything he has to me. And above his signature are a few words meant for me. 

‘I’m sorry, Scarlett. You make me the happiest man. But I can’t take this anymore. I really am sorry. I wish you the best, my girl. I wish you only the best. Be careful out there. It’s a lot more dangerous when you’re alone now, without me.'

I couldn’t believe what he had written and I didn’t even understand what he meant, truly meant. For a long time, and I mean years, even decades, I didn’t understand the last words about how dangerous everything had become. I only thought it was a regular thing a father tells his kid. But it wasn’t so ordinary, not in my case.

A nurse came out of the room my father was in, bringing a sort of an explanation about what’s happened. I jolted up from my seat when she started walking towards me. I watch her with frantic eyes, many many scenarios of what has happened and what the doctors will do running through my mind.

“Mrs Kings?” She asks to make sure it’s me. I nod and my hands start to shake, caused by an anxious feeling inside me. Maybe he’s had a heart attack? A stroke? “Your father consumed a lot of sleeping and stress-relief pills.” She informs me and I gasp, my hand over my lips. The nurse sighs. “I am sorry, but… we couldn’t bring him back. It was suicide.” She says with an apologetic look on her face, and the way she speaks is slow.

Her words don’t register for a while in my head, and there's a blank feeling in my mind. “Wait, wha—how—what?!” My voice breaks and my words spill faster than I can speak. “You can’t be serious. My father wouldn't...”

“I’m afraid I am, miss.” The nurse responds, her voice sad, but not as sad as mine. “We are terribly sorry for this. But we were too late.”

“No, no, no… you can’t—I was, I was with him just before the show! He was—he was… he was alright! He said he’d meet me after…” I trail off because I’m choking on my words. I’m at a loss for air. I am at a loss for everything, nothing seems real, nothing is there. Everything’s… lost.

I remember I felt myself start to fall. My knees were giving in and I didn’t have the strength to keep them strong. I couldn’t move myself up on my feet. I was falling, I couldn’t get any words out. The nurse put a hand on my shoulder and kept asking me questions. I couldn’t answer her. There was nothing I could do.

I spent the rest of the night in the hospital. I couldn’t go home. I couldn't go there, where my father had just... intentionally took his own life. I couldn't. I couldn’t move at all. 

I sat against a wall in the waiting room, my knees pressed against my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs. My stare was blank. Empty eyes looking forward, but not at anything in front of me. Just as they were taking every wire and system off my father's still body, taking him out of the reanimation room and pushing the stretcher with him on it down the hall towards the morgue. I never noticed. And now that I think of it, I didn't want to. The only time I looked at my father or his dead body was at his funeral.

I was lost. I don’t even know if I was capable to think. Thinking of what was to come, what would I do now, what would happen from then on. I definitely had questions, but no answers. I didn’t know what to do. I didn't even know who I was without him. i was practically no one. 

Who I am now and who I was then was all thanks to my father. All because he wanted me to be great, wanted me to be someone. But who could I be without him? I'd only be Scarlett, a sixteen-year-old from New York. I wasn't anyone... Anyone important. Not without him.

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[multiversediaries]

safe

bucky barnes x reader

summary: the mission against hydra went south and you were the one who got hurt.

warnings: mentions of abuse and torture, strong languages, mentions of bruises and blood

part count: 1/?

this was it.

you were going to die, alone and scared.

everyone is scared of dying alone, and you were no different. you were petrified as you looked at your chained arms and legs. excruciating pain rushing throughout your entire body. tears ran down your bruised cheeks as you scanned the small room you had been locked inside of. cold and solitary. no windows, nothing. just yourself chained to that uncomfortable chair.

you had been taken hostage by hydra. it happened while the avengers and yourself infiltrated their base. everything was going according to plan, until everything went south. they outnumbered you. you found yourself running for your life, until someone forcefully grabbed you, choking you until you passed out.

ever since, you have been a victim of abuse and torture. from punches to stabs. all so you would give them information about your team. the avengers. most importantly, about bucky. of course, you had not said a thing. you would never sell them out. they were your family. you met your boyfriend through them, and had formed a special bond with every single one of them.

however you couldn’t help but be absolutely petrified. you didn’t believe they had forgotten about you, they would never, but it has been almost a month since you’ve been kidnapped and no one has come looking for you. you were so terrified. you had barely lived. you weren’t ready to die yet. you hadn’t saved the world enough times, you hadn’t told your boyfriend you loved him, you hadn’t moved in together. god, you just weren’t ready. not yet.

your thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of gunshots outside. you fixated your eyes on the big, black door, curious on what was going on outside. you sat up straight, holding onto hope that you were about to get out of here. soon enough, that door finally opened. you gasped, as you broke down in tears at the sight.

“nate!” you sobbed at the sight of your boyfriend of many years in front of you. “you came.” you continued, your voice breaking in realization. he came. they all came to save you. you looked at your boyfriend nate, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision. you soon noticed he seemed to be frozen in place. he must be shocked by your appearance.

“i’m so glad you’re here— i thought i was going to die here.” you managed to say, soon after calming down your loud sobs. still, your boyfriend wouldn’t move, or even make eye contact with you.

“i’m— i’m okay!” you tried reassuring him, assuming he was startled by the amount of bruises on your body. “just— help me take these off, please. i can’t seem to get them off.” you almost pleaded, as you tried yet again to remove your hands from the heavy, tight chains that were holding you down.

your confusion further increased as you glared at him, who still didn’t move an inch. you tilted your head, the hope you had soon stripping away. nate didn’t speak, nor move, just breathed in front of you. you let out a breathy chuckle. this must be a sick joke, right? what’s going on?

“nate…?” you asked in a whisper. you yet again, turned on the waterworks in your eyes, as you realized what was happening. he had no plans to set you free. he had no plans to save you. all of that hope you once felt was destroyed by the bullets of his eyes.

“i’m sorry, y/n.” nate said, emotionless, whilst he started walking backwards, towards the door again. your eyes pleaded with his, to please not leave you here. but it seemed pointless.

“nate, please!” you wailed, truly stunned and heartbroken at what was going on. the person who was supposed to love you the most only smirked at you.

“hail hydra.” said nate, a devilish smile soon appearing in his face. your eyes widen in utter fear and disturbance.

what?

you watched nate turn around and begin to walk away from you. tears wouldn’t stop falling from your already swollen eyes. you just couldn’t believe this. you were going to die. there is no more hope. nothing else to hold onto. this was it. your head dropped in defeat.

“what the fuck are you doing?!” you heard someone yell. rage and confusion in their voice. you looked up hesitantly, no longer feeling hope nor longing for someone to come and take you out of this misery. however, you were wrong. there was hope. you were getting out of here.

“why the hell haven’t you unchained her?” they spoke again, as you looked up to meet their eyes. the eyes of your best friend. the eyes of the winter soldier. the eyes of bucky barnes.

“no… buck—he—” you tried saying, whilst bucky walked behind you, using his metal arm to break the chains. he broke the chains with ease, as if they were nothing. you exhaled in relief, as you registered that you were free.

“he’s with hydra.” you managed to say between your desperate tears. you felt bucky’s strong presence behind you.

bucky didn’t say a word. he wasted no time, and walked towards nate, and stoked him harshly. all it took was one punch from bucky, for your boyfriend to fall over, completely unconscious. bucky bit the insides of his mouth, feeling nothing but wrath. he wanted nothing more than to kill him, but he didn’t wanted to add more onto your stress and pain.

“fuck, doll, look at what they did to you.” bucky said, after walking towards you once again, and helping you out of the chains. the floodgates of your eyes never closed, there was no point in trying to stop your tears. you were in a state of shock, and in so much pain.

“fuck— okay. i’m going to pick you up, alright, angel? it’s going to hurt so bad. fuck, i’m so sorry.” bucky said, his hands lightly and softly attempting to wipe away your tears. you nodded, sniffling.

bucky’s cautions arms wrapped around you, and picked you up in the most delicate way possible. you whimpered in extreme pain, hiding your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to hide your painful cries. bucky carried your fragile self out of the hydra compound. ignoring the coos and comments from his coworkers and fellow avengers at the sight of you.

he wouldn’t allow anyone touch you. not even steve. no one was allowed to lay a hand on you. he gently laid you down on a small bed inside of the quinjet. as soon as he knew you were safe and sound, and now resting, he walked towards the other avengers, who were incredibly worried about you.

“is she alright? she doesn’t look good.” natasha asked, as she looked back at your sleeping, bruised body. bucky sighed, his hand massaging his temples.

“i don’t know. just— call banner and helen, tell them to be ready. please.” bucky pleaded, now walking back to you. he sat next to the bed, just watching over you.

————-

“she’ll be alright. a long recovery awaits her.” helen declared, after tending to your injuries for what felt like hours. steve sighed in relief at the news.

“oh my god— thank you, helen.” said sam, who stood next to tony.

“she shouldn’t push herself. look after her, alright?” helen finished, before walking away.

“she went through a lot. poor girl must be traumatized.” clint said softly, now sitting down. natasha and tony nodded their head in agreement.

“not the best way to find out your boyfriend’s working with hydra.” tony said, earning a deadly stare from the winter soldier. bucky exhaled, still extremely worried about you.

“not… now, tony.” steve said lightly, walking closer to bucky, who couldn’t stop thinking about you. of how hopeless and even lifeless you looked sitting on that chair. of how many deep bruises covered your entire body. steve interrupted his thoughts, laying a hand on his shoulder, to attempt to walk along side him.

“she’ll be okay, buck. we got there in time.” steve tried reassuring his best friend, who only shook his head. bucky’s eyes were glued to the floor, walking along side steve.

“you just didn’t see her, man.” bucky said, a frown appearing on his lips. “you didn’t see how terrified she was, steve. it was— seeing her like that was just..” bucky said, trying to find the correct words. steve nodded, frowning as well. both of them stopped at their tracks, as soon as they reached the room you were currently at.

bucky’s eyes softened as he watched you through the window. his eyes watering at the sight of you hooked up to so many machines, and covered in bandaids. he cursed under his breath as he watched you. steve looked at bucky, feeling nothing but pure pity and sympathy. the hand on bucky’s shoulder tenderly stroked him, trying his hardest to comfort him.

“she’s safe, buck.” steve said, earning a small tear to leave bucky’s eyes. bucky nodded, his hand quickly wiping away the tear.

“she’s safe.”

[geminiwritten]

flour ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: sam kisses you to save your cover on a mission, and bucky punches him... but you still don’t believe he’s in love with you?

notes: dear lord, i’m so sorry about this. i started it over a year ago, so it is probably a little disjointed, and i tried writing in present tense for some reason ??? anyway, i hope it isn’t too stupid! i’m trying really hard to get back into writing :)

word count: 5537 (i’m sorry)

“You astound me,” Natasha says, her words fed through the small radio piece tucked into your ear, “your heart rate is barely above seventy b.p.m.”

Your frown is only slight, your demeanour remaining cool and casual as the escalator descends toward the mall’s food court. Beside you, Sam has his cap pulled low on his brow and his sunglasses pushed high on his nose, one hand is resting on the handrail while the other is wrapped softly around your waist. You turn to him to feign conversation as you ask Natasha, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re in the middle of a covert mission,” she says, “possibly gone wrong and you’re still so calm, but the minute Barnes is within a twenty-foot radius your heart rate goes of the Richter.”

Heat flushes through you, blood concentrating in your cheeks and turning them an embarrassed shade of pink, “Nat, what the-”

Sam chuckles and pulls you closer to his side, “Calm down. He lost our signal between the third and fourth levels below.”

Oh. The thrumming in your chest begins to slow again and you focus on keeping your balance as you step off the escalator. Bucky wouldn’t have heard Nat’s stupid remark because he is currently waiting beneath six levels of solid concrete inside a room made entirely of metal. Assuming he hasn’t been found out and tied up, he would be silently watching the mall’s CCTV footage of you and Sam making your way through the food court.

“Meet him outside, in front of Subway,” Nat instructed, “greet him like an old friend you didn’t expect to see. He knows the drill.”

The food court was bustling. Full of hungry, impatient people waiting for their food or searching for an empty table amongst the hoards. It was an unusually busy Thursday that would hopefully work to your advantage.

Sam shot a casual glance over his shoulder, “They’re taking the outskirts; getting close.”

“Do they know who they’re looking for yet?”

He shakes his head as another voice comes through your earpieces, “Anyone copy?”

“Barnes,” Natasha replies, “welcome back.”

“I’m almost out, any complications?” he asks.

“Not yet,” Sam replies, again pretending to converse with you, “but they’re close. We’re about forty away.” Forty seconds, he means.

Bucky sounds relieved as he says, “Copy.”

Forty seconds until you’re out of this hot crowd of bodies and screaming children. Forty seconds and you could call this mission a success. Forty seconds and you will be able to slap Natasha for her stupid comment earlier.

"Are they following?” Sam asks as the two of you step out into the bright sunlight. It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, and you stumble a little as he begins to drag you across the courtyard.

“Yes,” Nat replies, “but I’m not sure they’ve clocked you yet.”

Surely these goons could wait thirty more seconds before realising that you were the couple they were looking for.

“You two look awfully suspicious,” Bucky says, obviously able to see you now.

Your heart begins to beat a little faster and you can hear the amusement in Nat’s tone, “You need to distract them, and one of you take your damn hat off.”

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” Sam says as he reaches for your cap.

Your hair falls loose, “What?”

“Twenty seconds,” Natasha informs.

Before you can ask why the hell Sam has stopped walking, his lips crash into yours. The arm around your waist pulls your body against his and the other presses into your back. Panic floods through you, lighting every inch of skin on fire as your brain struggles to catch up, to respond.

It’s over as soon as it begun, and Sam looks more apologetic than proud as Nat says, “Good job, Wilson.”

Your legs feel like jelly as Sam continues tugging you toward the bright green and yellow sandwich shop. Between wisps of loose hair and wandering shoppers, you spot Bucky, his maroon cap shading his face and his hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie. You count your steps as the seconds it takes to reach him, and ten later Sam releases you from his hold to greet his ‘old friend’ as Nat had instructed, but before he can even utter a word, Bucky slaps him.

-

“Are we going to unpack?” Nat asks, sitting on the foot of your bed with her legs crossed and an eager grin spread from ear to ear.

You tuck the corner of your bath towel beneath your arm to secure it as you begin ruffling your damp hair. Rain splatters the floor to ceiling windows on the far side of your room, but as usual Tony has the aircon pumping to keep the whole compound comfortably warm.

“Nothing to unpack,” you reply, “unless you’re talking about how we can do better to not be almost caught next time.”

She rolls her eyes in the reflection of your wardrobe mirror and scoffs, “yeah, okay, let’s completely ignore the fact that Sam kissed you and Bucky freaked the fuck out.”

“He was playing along, he’s a good agent.”

“Playing along?” she stands abruptly, “playing along? Are you serious?”

Heat washes through you, and you watch the colour flush to your cheeks as you finish detangling your hair.

“I know that you know what happened today,” she continues, moving in front of you and gripping your shoulders, “but I need you to acknowledge it and do something about it!”

“Do something about it?” you echo, “like what? Kiss Steve and see what he does?”

Her expression morphs into something from the pits of hell, a devilish grin revealing almost all of her teeth and lighting her eyes with a fire you know all too well.

“No!” you exclaim, stumbling several steps back, “absolutely no way, not in a million years! Natalia Alianova Romanova, wipe that stupid smirk off your face right now!”

“It doesn’t have to be Steve!”

“I was joking!” you turn and drop your towel to replace it with a t-shirt and pyjama shorts, “and it was a dumb joke, I’m not kissing another member of this team. Ever!”

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts your rant, and standing in the slightly ajar door of your room is Bucky. His cheeks are red and his lips frozen mid-word.

Natasha beams at him, “Barnes, how lovely of you to join us.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze and gluing his eyes to Nat, “the door was open, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You didn’t,” you say quickly, “we were just-”

“Tony said pizzas are here,” he turns on his heel, a thought still clearly unsaid as he rushes away from your room.

You groan into the material of your sweater as you pull it on, “oh, fuck me.”

Nat giggles, “you should have opened with that, he probably would have.”

Using the sleeve of your oversized sweater, you swat at her until she hurries out the door in front of you.

Upstairs, the whole loungeroom smells like cheese and slightly burnt dough, and your stomach grumbles in protest to its emptiness. Bucky is the first person you find, as usual, squashed between Clint and Steve on the loveseat while Wanda sprawls across the larger lounge, her legs resting across Sam’s lap.

“How are you feeling?” you ask her, leaning over the back of the couch.

“Like death,” she grumbles, “I can’t even eat pizza.”

Her face is pale, the circles beneath her eyes several shades too dark, and her forehead is glistening with sweat. Bruce had assured everyone that it was only food poisoning from a three-day old enchilada that Sam left in the fridge without warning anyone of its age, but Tony was still keeping a five-foot distance in fear of ruining his weekend by being hunched over the toilet bowl.

“At least your retaining fluids now,” Nat comforts as she offers her a fresh ice pack.

Conversation is scarce as most of the team eats their weight in pizza, and very little is left by the time Peter skips through the doors having just finished his Thursday afternoon decathlon meeting.

“So,” the kid says as he plops beside you on the floor, “how was today? Fill me in.”

You can feel Natasha’s searing stare as you reply, “it was fine, a little too close for comfort but we pulled through.”

Peter sighs dramatically, “don’t be boring, I want all the details.”

“You heard him, Y/N,” Tony pipes in from the kitchen table, “all of the details.”

His eyes light up at that, “holy shit, what happened?”

“Language,” Steve mumbles, to no one’s acknowledgment.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, “we were in a tight spot, almost caught, Sam kissed me to distract the goons and that’s all. Like I said, it was a fine mission.”

“Sam kissed you!” Peter exclaims, and you want to slap the kid for looking immediately toward Bucky.

Nat, sensing the rising tension and deciding to capitalise on it, giggles, “and then Barnes punched him.”

At the same time Peter exclaims, “oh, my God!” Bucky rises from his seat, drops an almost-empty pizza box on the coffee table, and stomps into the kitchen sink to begin aggressively washing his plate.

“It was a good distraction,” you insist, “they lost all suspicion with us, and he did not punch Sam.”

“Felt like a punch,” Sam grumbles before noticing your glare and stuffing half a piece of pizza in his mouth.

A moment of awkward silence passes before Wanda groans about the gurgling of her stomach and Natasha rushes to find a bucket and towel. Sam begins collecting empty pizza boxes and Bucky continues to wash each plate as they are placed on the bench beside the sink. You make sure that you’re the last to approach him, holding on to your plate as you bounce on the balls of your feet.

“Thanks for cleaning up,” you say, “and I’m sorry about… all that.”

He doesn’t respond, a lock of hair falling from behind his ear as he scrubs another dish.

“And sorry about before, in my room, Nat was just-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupts you, splashing soapy water onto the floor as he takes your plate from you.

You hesitate for a moment more, wanting to say something, diffuse the tension, but the link between your brain and your mouth is numb. Instead, you smile weakly at the side of his face before departing, out of the kitchen and lounge room, right through the doors into the corridor.

Back in your room, you yank your curtains closed and flip off all the lights. The LED light from the television above your bed floods the space with pale illumination, casting long and ominous shadows from your furniture. Despite the volume of Kill Bill Vol. 2 playing unnecessarily loud, you can still hear the splatter of rain outside and the knock at your door that comes almost an hour into the film.

“Come in,” you call, and the house’s AI unlatches the door for your guest.

Sam shuffles in, his eyes blinking to adjust to the dimness, “hey cheery, why the teenage moodiness?”

You shrug, “sometimes you need to be moody.”

He rolls his eyes and sits on the foot of your bed, watching a moment of the movie before turning to face you, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry. It was stupid, and I know Barnes likes you, so I don’t know what I was expecting.”

You sit up and pause the film, thankful for the lack of light so that Sam can’t see the redness colouring your cheeks. “You don’t have to apologise,” you say, “Bucky was… I don’t know what he was thinking, maybe something in the basement triggered him, but you don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

His expression rolls through a series of emotions, beginning with scepticism and then confusion, and a couple more that you can’t read before eventually landing on pity. “You really don’t believe us, do you?” he asks.

“Can you stop looking at me like that?” you sink back into your collection of pillows, “it makes me feel pathetic.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “but seriously, you don’t believe us? Was that not an obvious enough display? He is clearly obsessed with you, and I thought you were to, so I convinced him to talk to you this afternoon, but then he came upstairs going on about something he heard, and-”

You sit up again, your head protesting with a dull ache as you interrupt Sam’s rambling, “what did he hear?”

He stops to think for half a second before replying, “you said something to Natasha about never kissing another member of this team… ever?”

It takes you longer than half a second to figure it out and remember why you would say something like that, but then you recall Nat’s wicked smile at the thought of you kissing Steve and the conversation restores itself in your mind.

“Oh, my God,” you sigh, “I did say that but I didn’t mean Bucky, of course I would kiss Bucky. Damn it,” you dig your fists into the featherdown quilt surrounding you.

“Well,” Sam chuckles, “maybe you should tell him that, because he does like you, a lot.”

He presses play on the movie before bidding you goodnight and calling for your bedroom door to be locked once he’s left. You can’t focus on the rest of the movie, too annoyed at yourself for saying something so ridiculous, and too frustrated with Bucky for believing it. Sleep evades you until 2AM, when you begin to dream up embarrassing scenarios in which Bucky rejects you in the most hurtful ways possible. You wake covered in sweat and your chest aching with tension, as if you’d been holding your breath from the moment you fell asleep.

It's only 7AM when you roll out of bed, sliding your legs into a pair of tights and tiredly pulling a clean sweatshirt over your head. You don’t worry about checking your reflection before stumbling out the door with one sneaker on and the other in your hand, your intentions set on the gym.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Tony announces, startling you around the first corner you turn, “you’re just the person I was looking for, actually.”

You fight a yawn as you say, “what do you need?”

“Flour,” he replies, “and eggs, and some other things. The usual order didn’t go through because someone forgot to confirm it, and Barton wants to cook for everyone tonight, so I thought it’d be easier if one of us goes to the store.”

“Okay, first of all,” you can’t fight the second yawn, “the person who forgot to confirm the order was you, Steve reminded you five times, and secondly, why do I have to go to the store?”

“Because, sunshine,” his phone interrupts with a bleep, “I have a very important meeting about next week’s mission and it won’t be just you, Barnes already has the list and is bringing one of the cars up from the basement.”

Your pulse starts to race and you suddenly feel very awake, “Tony, I-”

“I’ll owe you, big time,” his phone chimes again, “please?”

You curse at the little angel on your shoulder winning the war on your conscience, “fine, but you owe me!”

He grins, and that warmth almost makes the next hour of torture worth it. He can’t ignore the noises from his phone anymore and presses it to his ear before turning on his heel and marching back to his office.

Alone in the corridor, you huff and stomp your foot, debating whether or not it’d be worth waking Nat or Wanda up to come with you or better yet, go in your place. Eventually you drag your feet through the compound and down to the ground floor where you find a black car with dark windows waiting just outside the garage entrance.

“Hey,” you say as you open the passenger door.

He looks startled as he mutters, “good morning.”

“Tony said you have the list?” you avoid his gaze, focusing on your shaky hands as you buckle the belt around you.

“Uh, yeah,” the car rumbles to life, “sorry, I just- Tony said he’d send Steve down.”

“Oh,” you finally look at him, revelling in the delicious sound of his morning voice, “I’m sorry, I don’t have to-”

“No,” he says quickly, “I want you to come.”

The car lurches forward before you can reply, and butterflies burst to life in your stomach. The radio is low and you both remain silent for most of the drive, but it isn’t awkward. You’re perfectly happy watching him drive, his hand wrapped around the steering wheel, eyes focused forward, and the way every muscle in his body seems to flex when he changes gears. You were a little disappointed when he finally parked.

“Have you been here before?” he asks, drawing your gaze from his hands to his face.

“As in a grocery store?”

He chuckles, the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard, “as in, this store in particular.”

“Oh,” you fumble with your seat belt, “no, but they’re all the same layout, right?”

You want the image of his smile burnt into your brain forever, but he turns away too quickly and shuts the door before you can even blink.

The store is fairly empty, and there are no people to dodge as you choose a trolley and begin down the first aisle of bread and baked foods. You hold the list and try desperately to focus on the items, but the way Bucky looks in his sweatpants and messy bun pushing a trolley and gazing at foods with glazed eyes. It’s too much.

You clear your throat, “so, we need flour, eggs, chicken-”

“Angel cakes,” he says, picking up a packet of sliced pink and white cakes, “do you like these?”

You nod, “I do, they’re really tasty.”

The way his eyes dip to your lips makes your heart flutter, and he does it twice more before swallowing thickly and tossing two packets of the cakes into the trolley. You continue along with occasional conversation, checking off the list while Bucky adds extra items after confirming that you like them. In the very last aisle of the store, you realise you’d forgotten the flour, but you’re not too annoyed about it because you’d be lying if you said you weren’t upset at the thought of your time with Bucky being over.

“Aisle seven,” you say, guiding the trolley around a corner, “flour, and then we’re done.”

“What is Barton even cooking?” he asks, watching you as you scan the shelves for the exact brand of flour that was on the list.

“Chicken tacos, I think,” you find the flour on the top shelf, “he makes homemade tortillas, it’s pretty good.”

You put the list down on top of the rest of the groceries and pull the sleeves of your sweatshirt up before placing one foot on the bottom shelf of the aisle.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks.

“Flour,” you point to the top shelf before gripping the one in front of you and hoisting your second foot off the floor.

Once you find your balance, you let go with your right hand and stretch up to reach to the very top. It remains only slightly out of reach, so you hike your foot to the second shelf and reach a little further. Your fingers brush the paper package, and you stretch a little further to try and wrap them around it. Just as you think you’ve managed, the three-pound pack topples forward, and you yelp and leap back to avoid it smacking into your face. Your shoes smack the linoleum floor but not before the flour; its contents burst in a white cloud and the powdery stuff causes your left foot to slip from under you. You keep falling backward until your butt hits the floor.

“Y/N!” Bucky exclaims, already on his knees in front of you.

The flour is already all over his black sweats, the cloud slowly dissipating between you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “that was stupid.”

His worry turns into a breathtaking grin as soon as he realises you’re okay, “it was a little bit stupid; you could have just asked.”

“I’m sorry,” you wipe the back of your hand across your cheek, finding a layer of flour there too.

“Don’t apologise,” he wraps his hands around yours to help you up, “but for the record, you can ask me anything.”

“Anything?” you echo, your heart racing when neither of you let go.

His pale eyes are glued to you, his body close enough for you to feel its heat and you can swear he’s leaning even closer. Warmth floods every inch of your skin, and your heart just about stops when you watch his tongue swipe across his bottom lip, but just as you find the courage to close the distance between your mouth and his, your phone rings.

The both of you startled backward and you fumble to find the phone in your sweatshirt pocket. “Hello?” you can’t help the irritated tone in which you answer.

“Hey!” Nat’s voice comes through, “where are you?”

“The grocery store.”

“Oh, what for?”

“Stuff.”

The phone line goes silent for a second, before Nat gasps, “oh, my God, is that where Bucky is too? What the hell are you two at the store for?”

“Tony asked,” you mutter, “we’re on our way home anyway. See you soon.” You tuck your phone back into your pocket and notice that Bucky has taken several steps away from you. “Sorry,” you say, “we should go.”

You begin pushing the trolley down the aisle while ruffling your hair to rid it of flour and a few people look at you strangely as you approach the check out. The guy behind the register is cute, and though you don’t particularly care what he thinks, you realise then that you’ve been shopping with Bucky for two hours in your grossest clothes without having even looked in a mirror.

“You’ve got a little something on your face,” the guy says, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth.

You laugh through your nose and a small puff of flour comes out, “you should see the other guy.”

He chuckles and begins scanning your items, “aisle seven?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “sorry, I can be a little clumsy.”

“You don’t have to apologise for anything,” he opens another fifteen-cent bag, “but since I will probably be the one mopping it up, you could give me your number as compensation?”

Bucky appears beside you, but you still can’t look at him. “Would you believe me if I said I honestly don’t know my own number by heart?” you say to the cashier.

He laughs again, “I don’t believe a gorgeous girl like you would lie, so yes, I believe you.”

You smile and step to the side to begin loading the bags back into the trolley. When he finally finishes, Bucky pays, and the cashier hands you a receipt with a number scrawled across the bottom next to ‘Dennis xx’.

“Thanks,” you mumble, unable to think of anything else.

Bucky is already out the door with the groceries, and you have to hurry to catch up to him at the car where he has already loaded all the bags into the trunk. “Sorry about that,” you say.

“About what?” he asks, looking at the piece of paper in your hand, “is that the receipt?”

You nod, and he takes it from you, inspecting it quickly before tearing into six pieces and shoving it into his pocket without another word. He is already in the car before you can fully realise what happened, and your stomach takes a nose-dive as the butterflies that were inside of it lurch up into your chest with a renewed, burning passion.

Once you’re both buckled in the car, he all but races out of the carpark, eager to put as much distance between you and that store clerk as possible. His gaze is hard and unmoving from the road ahead, but you can’t help your own as you watch him drive, his movements more jarring than before. Most of the trip is silent except for the soft murmur of the radio, and you spend the entire time trying to think of something to say that isn’t lame but before you can get beyond the idea of an apology, the car slows to a stop inside the dimly lit garage of the compound.

Neither of you move to leave the car, but Bucky turns to you in his seat, “I’m sorry about before, about that cashier’s number, if you-”

“Flour!” you exclaim, the traces of white powdering Bucky’s stubble remind you that while you did find the flour, you never actually put a packet in the trolley.

“Oh, crap,” he says, though a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“What?”

“Well,” he chuckles, “we could just shake out your clothes?”

You roll your eyes but a smile breaks across your face nonetheless, “I’m sure Clint will love that.”

Silence hangs once again, but this time its more comfortable. After a long sigh, you click the button on your belt buckle and exit the car, Bucky mimicking you on the other side of the black sedan. You meet each other at the back of the car, and you hesitate when his hand beats yours to the boot handle. The door wheezes softly as it opens, but Bucky’s eyes are still fixed on yours, and you don’t dare look away.

“Did you want the store clerk’s number?” he asks, “so you can call him.”

You shake your head as you reply, “no.”

“Good,” he finally releases you from his gaze and turns to the bags sitting in the boot.

“What does that mean?” the words come out of your mouth before you’ve even convinced yourself to say them.

He pauses before releasing the bags and facing you again, “it means, I’m glad you have higher standards than that.”

“Oh,” blood warms your cheeks and you look down at your fingers as you nervously play with the hem of your shirt.

He clears his throat before continuing, “and if those higher standards are met by Sam or-or Steve, then I am happy for you and wish nothing but the best for-”

“Sam or Steve?” you interrupt, “Buck, Sam only kissed me to save the mission and, in all honesty, save me, and Steve? Why would you even say that?”

“Because you two are so close, I mean…” he gestures to your torso, and you look down. Beneath all the flour, you recognise the Brooklyn sweater you’d pulled on this morning, Steve’s Brooklyn sweater.

“Bucky, I stole this from Steve months ago,” you say, “I was too lazy to go buy a sweater and as if this would fit across Steve’s shoulders; he didn’t want it.”

“Oh,” is all he can manage.

Your own thoughts are still racing though, and you frown when you connect the last dot, “is that what you heard from my room yesterday? Me saying that I should kiss Steve.”

You can swear that beneath all the flour and stubble, his cheeks are turning pink, “maybe.”

“Oh, my God,” you sigh, bracing yourself on the car, “Buck, I love you but you’re an idiot.”

The stagnant silence of the concrete basement envelops you both, the only sound being a distant drip of water from one of the pipes running along the roof. Nausea settles in your stomach, starting slow as it churns and twists until it feels like a whirlpool of butterflies and stomach acid is about to launch up your oesophagus. The blood rushing to your head starts to pulse in the corners of your vision and sweat breaks out across the back of your neck as your fight or flight instincts begin an internal war.

“You love me?” Bucky asks after what felt like an eternity.

You nod, “I love everyone in the team.”

He takes a step, closing the distance between your bodies, “do you love me like you love the others?”

You shake your head, “no.”

“Tell me how you love me,” he says, and the slightest tone of dominance makes your knees weak.

“I love-” your voice shakes, every nerve in your body a live wire of anxiety and anticipation, “I love you like… like I need you.”

He smirks, his face inches from yours, “come on, doll, you can do better than that.”

You look up at him through your lashes, “like I might fall out of this universe without you.”

He chuckles, “Lame, but better.”

Your nerves snap and you giggle, “do you enjoy torturing me?”

He closes all distance between the two of you, pressing his body against yours and cupping your face between his hands, “not nearly as much as I’m going to enjoy torturing you later.”

He catches your gasp with his lips, slipping his tongue between yours as his fingers slip into your hair. A soft moan escapes between your mouths, and you grasp at whatever you can, your fingers hooking the hem of his hoodie to hold him against you. The burning in your chest explodes into a full blown fire, Bucky’s heat feeding the flames as they steal every ounce of oxygen from you. Only when your head starts to spin and visions dance behind your eyes do you pull away.

Bucky’s lips are swollen and his face flushed, his pupils blown wide with an emotion that sends wet heat rushing to the apex of your thighs. You swallow thickly, “we should go upstairs.”

He nods, “the sooner, the better.”

“The sooner we face Barton, the sooner we can hide in your room,” you say, feigning an innocent smile as you load a grocery bag onto each arm.

Bucky grins, “how long do you think it’ll take him to get over it, a week?”

“At least,” you reply, “I think we should hide for a month, just to be safe.”

“Good idea,” he says, winking and causing your knees to buckle as you step into the elevator.

The grocery bags are the only things stopping either of you from attacking each other on the way up, making it feel like an age before the doors finally open into the main corridor of the top floor. The automatic doors to the lounge room slide apart as you approach them, and they reveal almost the whole team waiting around the television.

“Took you long enough,” Tony says, “have neither of you been to a grocery store before?”

Despite your whole body shaking with energy, you can’t find the wit nor the effort to retort, and neither can Bucky.

“What the hell happened to you?” Nat asks as she steps into the kitchen.

“Flour,” you reply, as if that is all the explanation needed, “and speaking of…”

Most of the team has risen from their respective spots on the couch and crowded around the kitchen, Steve even beginning to unload one of the grocery bags on the counter.

“After I dropped a three-pound bag on myself and made a huge mess,” you continue, “we forgot to actually buy some.”

Steve has taken full control of the groceries, allowing you and Bucky to step back toward the doors. Natasha laughs first, Sam following closely before the rest of the team seem to catch on to whatever joke you were not aware of.

“It’s okay,” Clint says between giggles, “I can see you got a little distracted.”

You frown and turn to Bucky, whose cheeks are brighter than the tomatoes Steve is holding as he stares down at the front of his hoodie. Outlined in white flour against the black material is the unmistakeable print of a woman’s body.

“Oh,” you can’t hold back a giggle despite the warm hue of embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

Bucky clears his throat, “you know what, I think I need to take a shower,” he turns to you, “and so do you.”

“Gross,” Tony says, the first to turn away from the group.

Nat winks just in time for you to see before Bucky wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you back out into the corridor. He stops abruptly as soon as the doors slide closed and backs you up against the nearest wall, trapping you with his body as his mouth crashes against yours. This kiss is different than the last; hotter, hungrier, and all tongue and teeth. His metal hand digs into your hip as he holds you against the wall with just enough pressure to leave delicious bruises on your skin.

“I think,” he speaks between kisses and ragged breaths, “we’re going to… have to… take the week off.”

Your eyes lock with his when he hesitates, waiting for your confirmation, and you can already see a glimmer of panic in his blue gaze.

You kiss him again before saying, “maybe a month, just to be safe.”

END.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Look Who’s Talking | Bucky Barnes Modern AU P.1

Inspired by the 1989 movie w/ John Travolta & Kirstie Alley

My Marvel masterlist

Characters & pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader (romantic), Tony Stark (past romance/affair), Sam Wilson (platonic) Natasha Romanoff (platonic/best friend) Steve Rogers (platonic)

Content warnings: fluff, angst in the beginning, pregnancy, childbirth, references to sex & cheating, profanity. Modern AU. References to the 1989 movie based on the same name | female reader (she/her)

Premise: It’s never a good idea to sleep with your boss—especially if they are married. It’s even worse if the affair results in getting knocked up & then the love you thought you two shared was all a fantasy. Who happens to be the night in shining armor in this story? A taxi driver and part time pilot who may need to retake the tests when it comes to navigating the streets of New York.

Note: This AU miniseries is inspired by the 1989 movie ‘Look Who’s Talking’ staring John Travolta & Kirstie Alley. There are some lines that are from the movie but I changed or added so they weren’t exactly the same words. I thought this was a cute idea and when I thought about who would be the best to be John’s character, Bucky was the best suit. Plus both are named James so it fits. I’m only doing maybe two or three parts so be sure to like my masterlist for updates.

————————————

It’s never a good idea to sleep with your boss—they always say to never mix business with pleasure in the office. Especially if the boss is a well known CEO with a reputation. Not only is it a bad idea to sleep with him, but it’s even worse if said boss happens to be married with a child.

Now say said boss tells you he’s in love with you and plans to divorce his wife so you two could be together. It gives you hope, right? So months into the affair when a pregnancy test comes back positive, you don’t think things would go sideways—because he’s getting a divorce and says he wants to be with you.

You tell him about the pregnancy and he seems pretty happy. It makes you believe he will follow through with his promises. So you prepare for arrival of your child with your lover—who you hope would ask you to be his wife one day, and you find yourself excited. Excited for the future and for you baby to be in your arms.

Now fast forward nine months and the pregnancy is about to come to its end. Everything has went smooth—the divorce between your lover and his wife is almost finalized and your baby has had a healthy journey in the womb.

That’s where our story begins.

In the crowded metropolitan area of New York City, Y/n L/n is out on the town with her best friend Natasha Romanoff to do a little shopping. Her pregnant belly is very noticeable in her maternity sun dress paired with a coat to combat the light breeze. Their arms were full of bags—several containing clothes and toys for the baby that the two had a lot of fun picking out.

“I hope this store has a bathroom,” Y/n says when they approach a clothing store, feeling her bladder start to build.

Natasha gives her a look, “Didn’t you just go two stores ago?” Y/n makes a sound, gesturing to her belly.

“Yeah, but I have to go again, Nat. Pregnant lady here.” She picks up the pace, catching the door handle and pulling it open for Nat to follow behind her. Natasha mutters something in Russian along the lines of, “I’m never having kids if it’s like this every twenty minutes.’

They find the bathroom, with Nat holding the bags while Y/n relieves herself and washes her hands. Once finished they start browsing the aisles. “I love this,” Y/n picks up a pretty floral dress and holds it up to her chest. When her eyes meet the mirror, her face falls slightly and groans, “Look it takes two of them to even cover me.”

“Yeah,” Nat comes to the side and puts a hand on her shoulder, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “But you’re having a baby, Y/n. Just get it for the future.”

Y/n lets her shoulders deflate, taking it off the hanger, “You try it on, Nat.”

The redhead takes the dress and steps in front of Y/n to pull it over her head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever have a baby,” Nat says aloud, “I thought about it and Bruce would make a great dad.” The dress goes over her head, and Y/n helps adjust it to cover her back while Nat starts to pull off her shirt.

“Do you love him?”

“Yeah,” Nat replies, “I do.” They make a face when they hear giggling coming from behind the dressing room curtain in front of them.

“I told you should try some of that Nobel prize winner sperm,” Y/n gives a cheeky look. “And he is a Nobel prize winner, isn’t he?”

“Oh stop it, Y/n,” Nat laughs. “He’s more than just a sperm donor.”

“I know I’m just messing with you, babes.” Y/n helps ruffle out the dress, while Nat adjusts her hair. “I’m just lucky I managed to find a nice handsome family man with brains.” She doesn’t miss the look Natasha was giving her through the mirror which resembled disapproval.

“Yeah? Except you know it’s someone else’s family, Y/n.”

“But that’s why he left, Nat,” Y/n defends, zipping up the back. “—because he loves me and we’re having a baby. It all works out.” Their attention is drawn to the dressing room where the giggling intensified.

“Stop that!” A feminine high pitch voice says while laughing.

Natasha raises her brow, a humored chuckle falling from her lips. “Guess the people in the next room are having some fun.” Y/n makes a sound and looks to the curtain when it starts to fall open.

Her earlier words of ‘it all works out,’ should’ve had her knock on wood cause it all came crashing down in seconds it’s revealed who was behind the curtain. A couple were in an intimate position with the mans face hidden in the woman’s neck—and Y/n felt her heart pick up when she notices a familiar suit.

The girl stumbles making the man hold onto her and raise his head—which all but makes Y/ns heart breaks as she locks eyes with Tony Stark. Her lover and father of her unborn child who promised to be with her once his divorce was final. The sunglasses on his face were a-skewed, hair tousled, and the top part of his dress shirt was unbutton. Not to mention his lips were swollen a bit.

The looks of amusement she and Nat had fell quicker than pin dropping. All Y/n could do was stare in disbelief as the realization overtook Tonys face. It was like he wasn’t even surprised he was caught, just upset it had to be like that. Y/n then got a good look at the girl—who had turned her head to see what Tony was looking at, and recognized her as Veronica—his public relations assistant.

Y/n couldn’t stand being in the store any longer and picked up her back to leave. “Y/n!” She heard Tony call out to her when she made her way out. Veronica yelled his name and Y/n guessed Tony had followed after her. He eventually caught up when they got outside, grabbing her shoulder, “Y/n, let me explain.”

She rips her shoulder from his grasp, while Nat—still in the dress, comes beside her and scoffs. “Now this I have to hear,” the redheads face was full of rage—like she was about to kick his ass right there in the streets.

Veronica was going off on Tony, “I thought you told her, Tony!” While a sales lady had run out and stood between the four, “Ladies those dresses need to paid for, you have to come back inside.” With all the commotion it was hard to hear so the lady then yelled, “If you don’t get the dresses back inside I will call the cops.”

Nat huffs, giving Y/n a comforting squeeze on her shoulder before turning back to change out of the dress. Veronica looks to Tony, before following suit with the sales lady behind her leaving the two alone.

Y/n just stares at the man, tears threatening to leave her eyes. “Tony, w-what? What’s going on?”

Tony lets out a sigh, “Y/n, I’m sorry—I don’t really know how to tell you this, but I’ve falling in love.”

“With Veronica?” She asks in disbelief. “H-how long have you—.”

“About three months.” Y/n felt her jaw drop. “—And Pepper knows about it—I’ll be moving in with Veronica at the end of the month.”

It was all too much for the woman—heart breaking at the news. But not only was anguish consuming her, anger was as well. Angered by the fact Pepper knew about Veronica while Tony insisted Y/n was kept a secret until after the divorce. A unhumorous scoff fell from her, eyes flickering with emotion, “So you tell Pepper about her, but not me?”

“Look, honey���,” Y/n wanted to slap him for having the audacity to call her that. “—It’s not like I planned for this. It just sorta happened.”

“And you couldn’t tell me months ago, Tony!” Y/n exclaimed, not caring her eyes were now letting tears fall. “After all this time?!”

He tried to touch her shoulder to calm her, but Y/n stepped back from him. “Look you were so close to the end of your pregnancy, I didn’t want to stress you out.” She couldn’t believe he was using her state as an excuse. “—and like I said it just happened.” Tony fiddled with the cuffs on his shirt, trying to think of some way to let Y/n down easy. “Look, I know it’s probably not the best thing to day, but I’m going through a selfish phase—.”

“A selfish phase?” She repeated in dismay as if she needed him to say it again. “A selfish phase, Tony?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” Her hand comes up to hit his chest, pushing him away. Tony tries to avoid her hands, mumbling ‘ow, ow!’ “You fucking dick!” With one last wack she pushes away from him and turns away.

“Y/n, please—AHH!” He pleads with her to understand when a sudden weight is on his back and red hair covers his vision.

“Why you little asshole!” Natasha had jumped on the CEOs back while hurling insults. He wriggled beneath her just as Veronica caught up and was yelling at Nat to get off Tony. “How dare you!” “Get off him! Leave him alone!”

Tears continued to spill from Y/n as she walked the sidewalk away from the commotion behind her. Her heart was breaking and all she could think about was she was now alone with a baby about to be born any day.

Well more like any minute when a tightness could be felt in her stomach and pain erupted.

She let out a groan, stepping to the side to place a hand on her belly and take a deep breath while the pain passed. But it came back as soon as it was gone and panic filled her at the realization she was going into labor. “Ahh!” she winced, moving to the side of the street. There was a cap parked and she tried to get to it but a man had beat her. “Wait, sir, please—I’m in labor!”

The man just gives her an uninterested look, “I was here first, lady.” He gets in the taxi and the car speeds away leaving Y/n in just a state of annoyance.

“Fucking typical,” she mutters, wincing when another contraction hits her. Luckily as she moves closer to the curb another cab pulls up and she doesn’t hesitate to throw the door open. Her bag is tossed inside and she drops to the seat pulling the door closed behind her. “St. Marys Hospital,” she tells the driver and adds, “—and step on it—ah!”

The sound of her pained grunt has the driver turn around making his eyes widen behind the aviators. “Ah shit!” The cab is put in drive and hauled into the streets by making an illegal U-turn. He hits the gas and Y/n has to hold onto the door handle to keep steady.

“Hey!” She yells from the backseat, “You need to slow down, buddy! The first stage of labor can take hours.”

He lets out a scoff, gesturing to the streets in front of them. “Yeah and so can traffic!” He makes a sharp left and nearly takes out a trash can causing her to gasp. The man doesn’t even stop at a stoplight, completely bypassing it which has cars stopping to avoid being hit.

When he gets distracted yelling out the window, Y/n screams seeing a semi coming toward them cause he veered off to the other lane. “Shit,” he mumbles, swinging the wheel to the right to get back into the right lane. Y/n’s hand meets the window, to prevent her head from hitting when the sudden movement jerks her.

“God, you idiot!”

As they come up on a main road, cars are stopped at a light making the driver groan and come to a stop. At that exact moment another contraction hits Y/n, quicker than the others making her say “Can you go any faster?”

“I can’t, doll, there’s traffic—I can’t move the cars you know what I mean.” He then reaches his gloved hand back, “here hold onto my hand if you need—,” he’s cut off when she slaps his hand away. “Okay suit yourself.”

The next contraction had Y/n gasping when a sensation was felt in her underwear. “Shit!” The exclamation has the cab driver turning to look at her. “Oh, no—my water just broke.” Sure enough when she lifted the hem of her dress skirt she could see the puddle of fluid. “Fuck.”

“Oh boy,” he says and sticks his head out the window. “Hey c’mon buddy! Move it!” When he gets to the roadblock he sees it’s a construction zone causing the bottleneck and starts yelling at the guy directing traffic.

“Hey you can’t go through here!”

“I got an emergency!” He yells back, while the guy starts telling him the direction to go around. With a huff, he steps on the gas and makes the decision of going through the zone.

Y/n gasps, “What are you doing!?”

“Getting you to the hospital—just relax and hold on. We’re almost there.”

She starts working on her breathing to get through the contractions. When she looks up through the windshield the sight of trucks have her screaming, “Watch out! You’re gonna hit—.” She’s cut off by the sudden jerk of the car.

The next few minutes felt like she was on a roller coaster that should’ve been denied upon inspection. He was swerving and jerking, barely paying attention to the road. The wheels had hit the curb a few times making her call him a ‘stupid son of a bitch.’ She prayed the hospital was just around the corner cause she was seconds away from throwing herself from the cab and just walking the rest of the way.

“Have you been doing your Lamaze breathing?”

“Will you watch the road!!” A discarded box meets the cabs bumper.

He turns his head over his shoulder, “C’mon breath deep—you gotta use Lamaze—my sister did it and it worked,” she rolls her eyes as he continues, “and it’s good for the baby.”

“Oh I’m sure you’re an expert huh?” Sarcasm drips from her tongue, but she continues to work on her breathing. The contractions were getting closer together and she could feel was dread at the thought of pushing the baby out in the backseat of a cab.

They hit another bump as he cuts a left through an intersection. “You want me to call your husband when we get to the hospital?”

“I don’t have a husband!” She winces through a contraction.

“Boyfriend?” Now Y/n has had it and just wants him to stop asking question.

“Not that it’s any of your business, buddy, but I had an affair with a married man who I just found out was cheating on me too!” Y/n feels tears prickle, both from the pain and emotions she was feeling.

“Oh damn,” he makes a face and Y/n huffs. Much to her pleasure the sign for the St. Mary’s emergency room finally meets her eye and she already has her hand on the door. The driver—who she has yet to learn the name of—flies into the roundabout and hits the curb.

Y/n flings the door open—completely forgetting her purse and runs up to the sidewalk where she sees the driver had also got out to help her. “Are you out of your mind!” She hits his shoulder, “You could’ve killed us!—ahh!!” She hunches over and his arm comes around her. “Don’t touch me!” He doesn’t listen and just tries to help her through the doors of the hospital.

Y/n reaches the front desk out of breath and talks with the receptionist while the driver is being told he needs to move his cab. “Sir, you can’t be parked in a loading zone!” “I’ll move it give me a second.” “Ma’am you’re gonna have to fill out this paperwork.” “I’m literally in labor—ah!” “Can we please get her a wheelchair and set up a room.”

Y/n is wheeled into a room whereas the taxi driver is being escorted by a man to be handed a dressing gown and mask. “Here just put this on and good luck.” His eyes widen at the implication.

“But buddy, I ain’t the father!” The man was gone and therefore didn’t hear him. He just lets out a sigh and goes to the bathroom to change. Meanwhile Y/n is hooked up to machines and begging for the doctor to give her the epidural—the contractions becoming too much for her to bare.

“I can’t do this anymore—I-I need the drugs.” The nurse beside her just shakes her head while telling her to slow her breathing. That just angers Y/n even more. “Oh screw my breathing!”

At that moment the cab driver decked in a green gown strolls in, having heard the yelling from down the hall. “Now, now, you gotta calm down—you’ll be starting to sound like Darth Vader up in here.” Her hand comes to his chest, pulling him down so they were eye level.

“Get me those drugs.”

“You sure?” He asks with his brow raised. She nods, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes and he turns to the nurse. “Can’t you get her the epidural?”

“She’s almost fully dilated—and I can’t do anything without the doctor.”

He lets out a huff, moving to the doorway where he spots a man in a lab coat looking at a clipboard. “Hey!” The man looks up to the noise, “You the doctor? Get in here—let’s go.” He steps away to let the doctor through and stands beside him while Y/n is checked over.

“Water break?”

“Half an hour ago,” the nurse replies.

“Dilation?”

The nurse goes to look under Y/ns dressing gown. “Roughly five centimeters.” The doctor pulls his glasses from his pocket and puts them on his face.

“Have you been doing your Lamaze breathing?”

Y/n lets out a pained groan, “I’m really trying, doc. But I dropped out of Lamaze—if you take this pain away I’ll go to summer school and make it up.” She tries to laugh at the joke, but another contraction hits making her wince instead.

The doctor chuckles anyway, “The epidural should be here any minute. Hopefully you won’t reach eight centimeters before it gets here otherwise we won’t be able to administer it—can be harmful for the baby.” Y/n groans at that, praying they would hurry.

Her prayers were answered five minutes later and with a poke of a needle to her lower back the pain seemed to numb. Y/n sighed in content, leaning back against the bed as her lower half relaxed. She had yet to realize the masked man who she thought was a doctor or nurse was actually the cab driver.

He didn’t have his sunglasses on so when she looked at him she was met with a stunning pair of blue eyes. The tilt of her head has him repeat the action, almost like he was waiting for her to say something.

“Are you,” she squints, “—are you the cab driver?” When he was talking earlier she picked up on his voice and it sounded familiar—given she was yelling at the owner the entire drive to the hospital.

His eyes seemed to twinkle and he extends a hand, “James Barnes at your service, milady. But please call me Bucky,” he ends it with a wink.

“Oh gosh,” she takes his hand. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.” He gives a shrug.

“Yeah well my cab is probably already towed so I didn’t have any other option than to stick around.” He tilts her head, seeing the now tired look she had after the epidural had kicked in—mixed with the dried tears left on her face. “What’s your name by the way? Or do I have to stick to calling you doll.”

Y/n adjusts herself, letting her head fall to the pillow. “Y/n. Sorry for hitting you by the way.”

“It’s no biggie,” Bucky waved his hand, “It happens quite often.” She gives him a look, not really knowing how to react to that.

“I feel I should be concerned.” Y/n goes to say something else, but a sudden pressure has her hunching over. “Oh no, no, no. I feel something—DON’T LOOK!!” She screams when he made movement to see if the baby was coming.

“What I was just checking so we can call the doctor,” he says as if it were obvious.

“Oh my God,” she waves him away, “Just get the doctor first and have him look!” Bucky shrugs and exits the door only to return moments later with the doctor.

Sure enough she was fully dilated and crowning. Y/ns legs were perched up and Bucky went to hold her hand and one of her knees while the nurse held the other on the opposite side. Another nurse was on standby beside the doctor. “Okay, Y/n, it’s time to push. When the next contraction hits I want you to push for ten seconds and don’t stop until it passes.”

“O-okay,” she stutters out, feeling the pressure build in her lower half. Her hand had a tight grip on Buckys, the man encouraging her to squeeze as hard as she needed.

Ten minutes of pushing and grunting passed before screams filled the room and Y/n felt the pressure leave her body. She lifted her head from the pillow nearly bursting into sobs when her eyes landed on her baby. They were screaming—putting those new lungs to work and were covered in the embryonic fluid.

“Congratulations, Ms. L/n,” the doctor said, holding the newborn to her. “You have a boy.” Y/n hadn’t known the sex of the baby during her pregnancy, and let out a gasp at the news. She had names picked out already so she couldn’t wait for the doctor to make it official.

“He’s beautiful,” she awed when the doctor went to cut the umbilical cord after Bucky politely refused. The newborn was passed to a nurse to be cleaned and dried off.

“Good job, doll,” Bucky said to her, gently massaging her hand with his thumb that was still in his grasp.

Y/n turned her head to meet his gaze, a tired smile on her face. “Thank you.” It looked like he was smiling from behind the mask—given there were crinkles by his eyes.

Her son was put in a swaddle and beanie after doing some vital checks with the nurse gently carrying him over to the new mom. He was still crying, but as soon as he was placed into Y/ns arms the cries subsided. Y/ns arms were shaking slightly, multiple emotions running through her that she couldn’t decide which was the strongest at the moment.

There was joy, anxiousness, fear, sadness, excitement all wrapped into one. But overall the main thing she could feel was love. Consuming love at the baby in her arms. Her baby, her son. Who came into the world and already stole her heart.

It was going to be tough for the them, but Y/n was dedicated to making sure he would have the absolute best life she could give him. Even if it was on her own.

“Hey there,” she cooed, voice going so soft it was almost a whisper. The smile on her face grew when the baby opened his eyes, squinting a bit by the light. “So you’re the one who’s been kicking me I see,” she teases lightly, watching the newborn nuzzle into the blanket.

Bucky watches the interaction with fondness. He may not know the woman or her story, but he couldn’t help but melt at the sight of mother and baby meeting for the first time. The man knew he needed to leave—let her go on with her life, hoping maybe one day they would cross paths again.

Without her being in labor in the back seat of his cab.

“I better get going,” he says when the nurse comes back in to do some checks, “—make sure my cab didn’t get towed. But congratulations, Y/n.” She hadn’t been paying attention when he started to back away, but she lifts her head as he nearly exits the door.

“Hey,” she stops him in his tracks, making him turn back to her. She gives a smile—one full of thanks and appreciation. “Thank you, James.”

His lips curl up, giving her a small nod and gesturing to the baby in her arms. “It’s my honor, doll. You take care now.” As he exited the room leaving her and her newborn son alone, Y/ns mind began to wonder. It was just them two now—with the help of her close friends and family, and Y/n was nervous of how life was going to play out.

But two things were for sure in her mind.

1. The baby in her arms would get everything he ever deserved out of life—she would make sure of it until her last breath.

2. That cab driver needed to seriously get his license revoked. Although he was kinda a sight for sore eyes.

The nurse came over to take her son to run some more checkups and get information written down so she could rest. At the last thought left her brain, Y/n let her head fall back to the pillow as the sleep began to consume her.

Look who’s talking now.

[tricksters-captain]

Bucky Barnes imagines - Some Sunny Day Part 2

AN: I’m splitting episode 3 into two chapters because so much happens. 

Summary: Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.  

In this chapter: Despite your protests, Bucky seeks out Zemo (Based on S1 EP3)

(PART 1 HERE)

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 5,196

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 3, violence, strong language. 

You watched Bucky as he sat beside you on the aircraft. 

“Do you mind?” Bucky’s side eye didn’t make you look away. 

“I’m just trying to see what’s going through that head of yours.” You confessed. You were all on your way to Germany to visit Zemo. It wasn’t a plan you were happy with but it was the plan. 

“Don’t bother.” Bucky frowned, looking down at his hands on his lap. “And don’t ask me if I think this is a good idea again.” 

“I wasn’t going to ask that.” You turned away from the man.

“What was it then?” Bucky asked. 

“I was going to ask if you were sure you wanted to do this.” It was another question you had already asked 20 times or more but you couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of anxiety about this trip. 

“She has a right to be worried, Buck. The last time you were alone with Zemo, you ended up putting (Y/n) through three windows.” Sam reminded you both of what happened the last time you were in Berlin. 

“It won’t happen this time.” Bucky tried to reassure you both but you still felt uneasy. 

After another hour or so Sam announced that you were almost there. 

It was a short drive to the prison from the airport but once you were inside, you felt your chest begin to tighten again. 

“He’s just through that corridor.” The German guard gestured up ahead and that’s when Bucky stopped you. 

“Alright. Give us a sec.” Bucky instructed the security guard before turning to you and Sam. “I’m gonna go in alone.”

“Why?” Sam asked, 

“You’re Avengers. You know how he feels about that.” Bucky said as he looked between the two of you. 

“It’s not like you two were known for frolickin’ in the sun together.” Sam felt he needed to remind Bucky of the past again. However, Bucky stood his ground. 

“He was obsessed with HYDRA. We have a history together. Trust me. I got it.” 

“Buck...” You started, 

“I got it.” He repeated himself before you could say anything else. 

You watched Bucky head through the doors alone. 

“Let’s wait outside. This place gives me the creeps.” Sam encouraged you to follow him to which you didn’t do without hesitation. 

Sam brought you a hot drink as you sat on a bench outside. 

“I forgot how worried he can make you.” Sam admitted as he sat down beside you.

“I’ve seen what he went through, Sam. All of it leading up to Zemo. I just... I don’t want it happening to him again.” You knew you couldn’t explain the extent of why you cared for Bucky. 

“You love him.” Sam said. It wasn’t a question but rather a statement. “I can see it clear as day. Anyone could if they stuck around long enough.” 

“Why are you bringing this up, Sam?” You sighed, looking away from him. 

“Because it’s also obvious that he loves you too. You run around driving each other crazy with worry but you have none of the good stuff that comes with being in love with someone.” 

“What do you know about love, Don Juan?” You chuckled as you tried to lighten the tone.

“I know it when I see it.” Sam smiled but there was a sadness behind his eyes. 

“Things are complicated, Sam.” You muttered, “You already know that.” 

“Well I also think that if Bucky got some he’d be a whole lot less angsty all the damn time.” You knew Sam only said it to make you laugh but you still gave him a whack for the comment. 

“Shut up, Sam.” You shook your head, trying not to smile at the inappropriate comment. 

Sam kept you entertained by a couple of silly games of rock, paper, scissors before Bucky returned. 

“Come on, I got some information. We gotta go.” Bucky hurried you and Sam along. 

“Just like that?” You were surprised that Zemo even spoke to Bucky at all. 

“A location. I’ll explain everything once we get there.” Bucky wasn’t giving you much information and it was making you a little suspicious. 

“Hey, hey, hey...” Sam ran after Bucky, stopping him. “You gotta give us a little more than that.”

“Zemo agreed to help us after hearing that there were more super soldiers. It was his life ambition to stop the winter soldier programme and he’s given us a lead.” Bucky explained. 

“And you’re just gonna trust his word?” You probed. 

“There’s not much else we can do.” Bucky did make a point. 

It didn’t take long to reach the large warehouse/garage that Bucky wanted to go to. 

Bucky on the way had started rambling about breaking Zemo out of jail in order to help you guys which sounded ridiculous to you. 

“Tell me you’re joking, Buck.” You pleaded, unsure whether he had lost his mind entirely. 

“He’s our best shot at finding who is making the serum and he’d be a lot more useful out than in.” Bucky opened the door to the building and you followed him inside.

“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail? Where are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?” Sam was just as lost as you were as he shot questions at Bucky. 

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing.” Bucky sighed as you made your way in with your flashlights. 

“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars.” Sam argued. 

“We also have eight Super Soldiers that are loose.” Bucky retorted. 

“Anyway, I thought this was a lead?” You tried to look around but the place was badly lit. There were mainly mechanic tools and lots of storage scattered around. 

“It’s complicated.” Bucky frowned.

“What’s complicated is Zemo. He’s gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offence.” Sam shone his flashlight at Bucky as he spoke. 

“Offence.” Bucky didn’t look impressed as he found the light switch. “Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code.” 

“I’ve been on the wrong side of that code and so have you. He blew up the UN, he killed King T’Chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It’s a rhetorical question. They didn’t. I know why this matters to you, but it’s pushing you off the deep end.” Sam stepped closer to Bucky. You couldn’t deny that Sam had a point. Zemo was the one who tore the avengers apart by framing Bucky.  “We don’t know how they’re gettin’ the serum. We don’t even know how many of them there are.” Bucky couldn’t give up. “Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I?”

“What did you do?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky. 

You were busy looking inside the car that was revealed by the lights coming on. 

“I didn’t do anything.” Bucky shook his head before he continued with his ‘hypothetical’. 

“The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it’s nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond.”

“So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment? Who knows?” Sam questioned. 

“There could be many reasons…” Bucky shrugged. “But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated, and with all those bodies flying around left and right, wouldn’t be hard to slip down a hallway or two.

At this point, you stopped looking around and looked over at Bucky with your arms across your chest. You weren’t liking how thought out this plan was sounding. 

“And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated someone could use the chaos to their advantage.” Bucky continued. 

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural. Are you… And where are we, man?” Sam gestured around the place with confusion locked on his face. 

“Bucky, I’m with Sam on this one. I’ve got a bad feeling and–––” A door opening behind you cut you short. 

You turned around to see Zemo walk through the plastic door curtains. 

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sam jumped forward instructively. Bucky managed to stop him but he didn't stop you. 

You rushed towards Zemo and held the tip of one of your knives to his Adams apple as he held his hands up. 

“What are you doing here?” Sam shouted at Zemo before snapping back to Bucky.

“I didn’t tell ’cause I knew you wouldn’t let this happen.” Bucky admitted. 

“What did you do?” Sam pointed at Zemo in shock.

“We need him.” Bucky stated to which you chuckled harshly, pressing your knife a little harder. 

“You’re going back to prison!” Sam called over. 

“If I may..? “ Zemo tried to speak but you all shut him up with a unanimous ‘No.’

“Apologies.” Zemo mumbled. 

“(Y/n), put the knife down.” Bucky came towards you and wrapped his hand round your wrist. “Please?” 

You did. Slowly. 

“Look, when Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you both backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me. I’m asking you to do it again.” Bucky looked back and forth from you to Sam. 

“I really think I’m invaluable.” Zemo spoke again. 

“Shut up.” You rose the knife again to which Zemo took a step back and pretended to zip his mouth shut. 

“Okay.” Sam sighed after a moment of contemplation. “If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.”

“Fair.” Zemo nodded. 

“Bucky... You understand what this means right? If they find out we took Zemo, specifically you. We’ll be on the run again and I don’t know if there will be a pardon this time either.” The concern in your eyes made Bucky frown. 

“It’ll be alright. He's the only shot we got to stop these guys.” Bucky wasn’t sure if he believed his own words but he was praying that this was the best thing to do. 

“Alright.” You turned to Zemo. “So where do we start?”

Zemo gestured for you to follow him before taking you into another dark room. You kept your knife in your hand just in case.

He reached for the light switch to reveal a mass of classic cars. 

“So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam cocked his eyebrow at the impressive collection.  

“These are mine. Collected by family over the generations. I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it’s out there, someone can create an army of people… like the Avengers.”  Zemo entered one of the cars and pulled out a bag. “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished. To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join the party. We’ve already started.” Sam told the man.

“First stop is a woman named Selby. Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.” Zemo took his bag and headed into another room. 

“Jesus... How big is this place?” You looked around to see it was full of clothes. 

“First I change and then we head to Selby.” Zemo placed the bag down before filing through one if the rails of clothes. 

“How are we supposed to get anywhere with Zemo on our hands? We can’t exactly call Torres and ask for a ride but please ignore the fugitive that’s coming with us.” You looked between the boys. 

“I will get us there.” Zemo told you. 

“Great.” You pressed a fake smile onto your face which Zemo chose not to acknowledge.

Before you knew it you were at the airport at Zemo’s private jet.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam’s eyes went wide at the sight of the plane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.” Zemo spoke as if it was well known information. You felt a pang hit you in the chest, it happened every time you thought of Sokovia... it was guilt. 

You watched Zemo greet an elderly man in a suit before you entered the jet. 

You sat furtherest away from Zemo, still feeling very uncomfortable about him being free and under your custody. 

You watched him sip on a glass of champagne like he had no worries in the world. 

“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell. Oh. That’s right you do.” Zemo reminded you of the time Tony had locked a lot of the avengers up. 

“Why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?” Sam suggested. 

 “I’m sorry. I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” 

Before you could blink, Bucky had lunged forward and taken Zemo by the neck.  

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.” Bucky kept hold of Zemo for a second longer before sitting back down. You had fought the urge to get up and take hold of his arm to calm him down.  

"I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.” Zemo made no attempt at a sincere apology for the invasion of privacy.  

“Don’t push it.”  Bucky warned him.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?” Sam smiled as he thought back on the memory. 

“I like ’40s music, so…” Bucky shrugged. 

“You didn’t like it?” Sam seemed more shock to hear this than when he saw Zemo. 

“I liked it.” Bucky proclaimed. 

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.” Even Zemo had to get involved. 

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.” Sam turned back to Bucky after giving side eye to Zemo. 

“I like Marvin Gaye.” Bucky repeated. 

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.” Sam couldn’t drop it but you didn’t bother getting involved. 

You looked at the book in Bucky’s hands. You knew Steve had given it to him before but seeing it again after all this time brought up a hundred thoughts. You remembered the many things you had told Steve to watch or eat or listen to like ABBA, Mochi ice cream and pranking him by suggesting the twilight movie as must see. 

“You must have really looked up to Steve.” Zemo mentioning Steve made you look up again. “But I realised something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.”

“Watch your step, Zemo.” Sam warned him. 

“They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right?” Zemo looked over at Bucky. “As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we’re going to Madripoor.” 

“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.” Sam asked but you already knew of Madripoor. Anyone with links to the underworld of crime knew of Madripoor. 

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” Bucky informed him. 

“It’s kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.” Zemo looked down at his duffel bag of clothes that you had watched him pack before.

“What do you mean by that?” You finally chimed into the conversation. 

“James will have to retake the person of the Winter Soldier. You both will have a role to play also.” Zemo explained, turning to face you as you sat in the chair by the back wall of the jet. 

“Bucky, can I speak to you privately?” You looked past Zemo to Bucky. Bucky gave you a look to ask where would you go so you stood and opened the cabin toilets door. 

Bucky huffed before following you in.

“Bucky I’m not okay with this.” You whispered as you pressed yourself up against the wall so you could try and fit both you and Bucky a little more comfortably. 

“This isn’t up to you.” Bucky sighed. 

 “Everything about this situation is making every nerve in my body scream this is a bad idea.” You folded your arms across your chest as you stared up at Bucky. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that this is the only plan we got?” 

“I don’t trust him.” You kept your voice low as you threw your hand up in the direction of the door. 

“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked. 

“I’m starting to question it.” You muttered. 

Bucky just stared at you in response. 

“Yes, I trust you.” You grumbled, caving in. 

“Anyway I have you if things go bad.” Bucky tried to make light of the situation but you weren't impressed. 

You left the bathroom and remained silent until you drew closer to Madripoor. 

Upon your arrival in Madripoor, you were handed some clothes to change into. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” You held up the small material dress that you were meant to wear. 

“I had to choose a disguise that would cover your face. Too many people here would know you from your days before the avengers and after.” Zemo defended his choice of ‘costume’ for you. 

“So I’m assassin barbie?” You scoffed before taking to the bathroom to change. 

You slid on the black leather playsuit and boots, along with the mask that Zemo gave you. 

You felt exposed and uncomfortable. You managed to hide a few knives in your boots and you slid on a thigh holster to hold some more to make you feel like you were protected at least. 

“Loose the knives.” Zemo instructed. 

“Are you serious?” You were growing more agitated by the minute with this man. 

“You are playing an escort. You can’t have knives on show.” Zemo pointed to your holster. 

You bit down on your cheek as you removed it. 

“Fine.” You then left the plane to Sam and Bucky waiting outside. Bucky’s eyes went wide at the sight of you but he tried to hide it by clearing his throat and looking away. 

“We have to fix this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.” Sam was wearing a red patterned suit and chains. He didn’t look too bad in it either.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.” Zemo handed Sam his phone revealing a picture of Conrad Mack.

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me, though.” Sam took the phone and looked down at the picture. 

“(Y/n) is playing your partner for the night. Conrad is known for his appreciation for the finer things in life and often has a woman on his arm Therefore, (Y/n), you must be attached to Sam’s hip the entire night.” Zemo filled you all in on the reason behind your disguise. 

“Excuse me, what?” Bucky almost choked at the idea of you having to be Sam’s woman for the night. 

“Well it is the only disguise that makes sense. She can’t be your girlfriend as you are the Winter Soldier. She can’t be mine as everyone knows I am loyal to my wife. She has to be the smiling tigers current whore.” 

“Watch your mouth.” Bucky hissed. 

“We all must play a part.” Zemo defended his choice of words. “You smell this?”

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam asked. 

“Madripoor. No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error. High Town’s that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town’s the other way.” Zemo gestured across the city as a car approached you all. 

“Let me guess. We don’t have any friends in High Town.” You sighed as Zemo opened the car door for you. 

“Not if we want the answers we are looking for.” Zemo climbed into the car after you and then the boys followed. 

It didn't take too long to find the way to low town. You had been to Madripoor before but it had been years ago. 

You did as you were ordered when you all exited Zemo’s car. You stuck by Sam, walking in the middle of Sam and Bucky. 

The air wasn’t cold but it felt thick, you could feel it sticking to your bare skin which gave you the desperate urge to take a long shower. 

“Here we are.” Zemo had brought you to a bar. It was busy and filled with a lot of men.  

“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” You heard Zemo ask Bucky in Russian. 

You heard whispers around you questioning if Bucky was who everyone thought he was. It made your gut clench with nerves but you didn’t let it show. 

“Hello, gentlemen. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” The bartender greeted Sam and Zemo but barely brushed a glance over you.

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.” Zemo spoke for Sam. You then felt Sam wrap his arm around your waist. You leaned into him, batting your eyelashes first at Sam and then the bartender. 

“The usual?” The bartender asked Sam. He nodded, afraid that if he spoke then it would give away the facade. 

You were thankful you were wearing a face mask when you saw the drink made for the Smiling Tiger. You grimaced at the dead snake being cut open and then again when one of its organs was dropped into Sam’s shot. 

“Ah, Smiling Tiger. Your favourite.” Zemo picked up his own drink as he looked down at Sam’s. 

“I love these.” Sam forced himself to speak. 

“Cheers, Conrad.” Zemo and Sam touched glasses before Sam hesitantly shot back the drink. You could tell Bucky enjoyed watching that. 

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.” A man suddenly approached from behind and tapped Zemo on the shoulder. You felt Sam’s grip on you tighten protectively. 

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me...” Zemo held his hand out to show his new bodyguard. 

“New haircut?” The stranger looked Bucky up and down. 

“Or bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo gave him the other option. The man retreated. 

“A power broker? Really?” Bucky spoke once the stranger had left.

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” Sam asked. 

“Only by reputation.” Zemo admitted honestly.

“In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner. You can’t visit low town without appearing on his radar.” You spoke up as you let yourself look around the room and take in just how many threats were around. 

“And you know this why?” Sam looked down at you. He must've forgotten your past. 

“I was a free agent before the Avengers. I've been here undercover a few times especially when I was a young teenager. Surprise Surprise evil guys like little girls.” You kept quiet in case anyone around was listening. 

Zemo suddenly spoke a command for Bucky in Russian once again and that’s when another stranger put his hands on Zemo. 

You watched Bucky follow orders and he didn’t hold back. 

He grabbed hold of the strangers wrist and pulled him off Zemo before attacking him and several others around. 

You took notice of those around with their phones out. Cameras...

You went to step forward when you felt Sam squeeze your side. He gave you a look that told you no. 

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo muttered to you and Sam. You wanted to punch him. 

Bucky slammed another man onto the bar and that’s when you heard the wave of guns cocking. 

Sam took hold of Bucky’s arm when Zemo told him to stay in character. 

Instead Zemo told Bucky to stand down once you were informed you could see Selby. 

Sam took hold of you hand and dragged you along side him as you all left the bar. 

“She isn’t welcome.” One of the guards stopped you before you could enter the room. 

“Excuse me?” Sam scoffed at the guard. “She’s with me and so she is welcome.” 

“Let her in!” You heard an English accent call from ahead. 

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Selby was an older woman with a white pixie cut and a sly grin. Sam remained stood and so did Bucky but Sam had commanded you to take a seat next to Zemo. 

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo was impressing you by how cool he was playing this. It also worried you. 

“A lot has changed since you were here last. By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?“ Selby asked. 

“People like us always find a way, don’t we? I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby ignored Zemo as she eyed up Sam.” What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum. And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”Zemo had risen from his seat and held Bucky by the chin. 

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank...Or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but… things didn’t go as planned.” Selby fed you what she knew. 

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo questioned. 

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” Selby pushed herself from her seat and walked across the room. 

That’s when Sam’s mobile went off. 

“Answer it. On speaker.” Selby ordered. The gun behind Sam made him pull out his phone. 

“Hello?” He answered. 

“Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation. It’s been drivin’ me nuts.” A woman’s voice came through. 

“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?” Sam tried his best to keep up his persona. 

“Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.” The woman’s attitude was not helping Sam’s case. 

“What situation, Sarah? Say it.” Sam demanded. 

“The damn boat. And watch your tone. Okay? I let you slide at the bank.” Sarah snapped back. 

“The bank. Yeah. Laundered so much...” Sam chuckled. “Yeah, they’ll come around.”

“If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big Time?” Sarah asked. 

“Yeah, you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see when I have that banker killed.” Sam tried to seem intimidating but at that moment you knew you were screwed. You reached down into your boot to take a knife just in case. 

“Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this! Sam, I’m sorry. I’ll call you back.” Sarah had used Sam’s name and that was the end of it. 

“Sam? Who’s Sam?” Selby looked pissed. “Kill them!” She ordered but before her hired men could react, a bullet came through the window and shot Selby down. 

You snatched two knives from your boot and sent them into the guard behind Sam. 

Bucky immediately reacted with taking out the other guard. 

“They’re gonna pin this on us.” You took the knives from the body as the boys took the guns. 

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Zemo’s order made the boys put their guns down but you just wiped your knives and placed them back in your boot. 

You left the club in a hurry. Text chimes went off around you and you knew the power broker had seen what happened. 

You were well and truly fucked. 

“This is not good.” Zemo’s last words before the shooting started. 

You took off alongside Bucky and Sam, cursing the fact that Zemo had put you in the most uncomfortable shoes on the planet. 

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam shouted which almost made you laugh. 

“Down here!” You took a turn into an alley to get off the road as two mopeds appeared behind you. 

Before you could spin around to fight, a shooter had taken them out. 

“You seem to have a guardian angel.” Zemo looked just. as confused you felt. You weren’t aware you knew anyone who was in Madripoor at the moment. 

“Well, this is too perfect. Drop it, Zemo.” A familiar face soon revealed itself from the shadows. 

“Sharon?” Sam furrowed his brow at the woman. 

“You cost me everything.” Sharon ignore Sam as she spoke to Zemo. 

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam stepped ahead of Zemo to protest him. 

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.”Sharon glowered at the four of you. 

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky asked the question on everyones mind. 

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass, so that you could save him from him. I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up. So I’m off the grid in Madripoor.” Sharon informed you.

“Don’t blow smoke. Both (Y/n) and I were on the run, too.” Sam didn't bother with feeling pity. 

“Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore. I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.” Sharon shot back. 

“Listen, Sharon, we need your help.” Bucky interrupted her before she could say anything else.  

“Please.” You added. You and Sharon were friendly for a time before the world went to hell. You figured she’d help you at least. 

“This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You’ll be safe there for a while.” Sharon sighed, giving in and lowering her gun. 

“Thank you.” You pressed a small smile onto your face but Sharon didn’t reciprocate. 

She managed to get you to a car safely and you headed out of low town for the night. 

(PART 3 HERE)

Bucky Barnes Tag List 

@florencxs @mystictimetravelcolor @yourphotographyteen16 @shannon-posts @darkbluenovember @sexwithhiddlesbatch @thefandomimagines @mydarkness-itsnotmyfriend @sad-huffle-nerd @glitchingghosts​ @themaddies-obx​

[vibraniumwing]

out of the woods.

a bucky barnes x fem!reader soulmate au wherein the two can finally see life in a much more brighter way. 

WARNING: violence, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of drugs, cursing, slight au (?), soulmate au, there’s only one bed, y/n and bucky are sort of frenemies (?)

A/N: i’m finally posting a fluffy one !! thank you to the wonderful @lunalovecroft for helping me out with the title (and for hyping me up about this one) i was actually very worried abt this fic bcs i haven’t written any fluff for a hot minute but i hope you guys enjoy reading !!

---

You were staring out the window of the private jet that was sending you over to The Netherlands where the two of you were tasked to capture a known drug cartel who was smuggling these on the way to Germany. You turned to Bucky who was staring off into the distance, probably thinking  of God knows what, “What do you think is the color of the sea?” 

He looked at you with the same intimidating gaze he had whenever someone suddenly speaks to him, “I have no clue, L/N.” was his only answer, glancing over to the window before going back to stare at nothing. 

This surprised you; knowing that your companion was well over a hundred, you thought he might have met his soulmate already, but that wasn’t the case. “So you’re telling me you haven’t met your soulmate yet?” You interrogated him, hugging your knees to your chest as you made yourself more comfortable in your seat. 

Bucky let out a soft grunt, resting his head on the seat and shook his head, “No. I’ve always seen things in black and white.” and that was the end of your discussion. 

This was going to be one long mission. 

---

Upon landing, you were whisked away to the middle of the city, towards a nightclub. Agent Ross was behind the wheel, debriefing both of you on who to approach; apparently the leader of the Cartel gang was present at the nightclub for a little meeting with a few people who were going to be responsible for shipping the drugs into Germany in exchange for a cargo filled with Vibranium that they’ve stolen from one of the piers. 

After the discussion of the game plan, you were left to your own devices. You shoved a duffel bag filled with clothes that were more appropriate for the location and you changed into it, not thinking of much of your companions. As you shimmied into the tight-fitting red lace bodysuit and a pair of black jeans, you were all set. 

“So, how do I look?” You questioned Bucky who was putting on his leather gloves. Your mouth was left ajar as you saw how he looked. He was wearing a button down that was left open a few buttons (still careful not to see the scar from his left arm), along with a leather jacket and a necklace to top it all off. 

Even in the colorless world, you could tell that he was absolutely fine.

He only took a quick glance at you before putting his focus back on his gloves, “Fine.” His answers were short and prompt, making you sigh in annoyance that you couldn’t even make small talk with him since he was so persistent in shutting you down. 

Once you guys were parked outside the nightclub, Ross gave you two in-ears and ordered that as much as possible you two needed to lay low in order to not attract attention and make the men flee the scene. 

You and Bucky moved inside and the adrenaline was already coursing through your veins. You leaned into the male as the both of you eyed the place, “I’ll be by the bar, make sure to update me once you catch on to anything.” You said, looking at him as you gave a subtle nod and headed over to the bar and ordered a Cosmopolitan. 

Taking a quick sip, your eyes were now scanning the rather populated dance floor until a guy spoke up from next to you with a heavy accent. “Hello there, what’s a pretty lady like you doing here alone?” You turned to him to reject his offer when Ross’ voice intercepted and told you that he was the target. 

“I’m just here looking for a good time. A distraction, if you know what I mean.” You answered, making sure to look as flirty as possible. His eyes roamed your body which made you feel very disgusted but you had to keep going, you didn’t want to blow yours and Bucky’s cover. 

“How about we go dance then?” He asked, offering you a hand as Britney Spears’ Womanizer played resonated through the whole club making everyone cheer a bit louder. You caught Bucky’s gaze as he spoke up through the comm, “I just found their meeting place. I’ll take care of the men inside, I counted five people including the man you’re with right now. Just stall, L/N.” 

You nodded and grabbed the man’s hand, pulling him towards the crowd and started to dance along. Your body easily flowed to the beat of the song but you went rigid when you felt the criminals arms roam our body, but you had to fight it. You couldn’t risk Bucky being seen. 

This went on for a few more songs until he pulled you back to the bar. He turned to you and pulled you by the waist towards him, “You were one hell of a performer out there.” 

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, wishing that Bucky would whisk you away from the man right now. “You don’t know anything about me.” You teasingly replied, breath hitching as his hand ghosted your ass. He hummed softly as he eyed you hungrily, leaning towards you to whisper, “How about we change that then?” as he harshly tugged you along the crowd towards God knows where. 

But before you could scream for help, you were ripped from his arms and being pulled away from the crowd and outside the nightclub. You could see Bucky seething as he pretended not to hear the calls of the man; unfortunately, he was relentless and followed the both of you outside and got a grip of your wrist. “Hey man, what the hell! Get your own girl to fuck!” 

But that’s when Bucky had enough. He took one look at the man before you heard a small whirring of his vibranium arm and the next thing you knew, the male was groaning on the floor. Ross was quick to interrupt the commotion and ordered a few guys to collect him and the others left inside. 

“Thank you, Agents. You can go now.” Was all he said, giving you two a small smile and tossed car keys to Bucky. 

The super-soldier was quiet as she rid himself of the jacket and draped it over your shoulders, mumbling a soft, “Let’s go.” to you as he started walking over to the car that was lent for the both of you. 

--- 

It was a quiet trip to the hotel, the only noise heard inside the car was the radio playing music and the hum of the car engine. “We’re here.” Bucky was the first to break the silence, getting out of the car as soon as he parked it by the side of the building. Following his lead, you got out and went over to the trunk to carry your own duffel bag and entered the building after him. 

Sighing softly, you watched Bucky go to the side to let you talk to the person at the front desk. “Do you have a room open?” You asked, fingers tapping the marble top. The receptionist shook her head, “Well we only have one room left and it’s一” “I don’t care at this point, we’ll take that room.” You cut her off, not wanting to sit in the car again. 

You were dying for a shower and a soft bed. The lady merely nodded and took in your request right away, giving you the keys to your room. 

Walking towards the elevator, you motioned Bucky (who was patiently waiting for you) to follow you. “I just took up the room that was available for the night.” You said to him, ultimately drained from the mission. All he did was nod and left you to your own devices. 

Getting off on the floor of your shared room, you were surprised to see a queen sized bed along with a small sofa by the window and a few other amenities. 

“Didn’t know you wanted to keep me next to you, L/N” Bucky was the first to speak up, entering the room and placing his bed on the foot of the bed. He looked at you with a small smirk. You smiled at him sarcastically and flipped him off, “Fuck off, Barnes. This was the only room left. It was either this or the car.” 

You could hear his scoff as you entered the bathroom and dropped your things by the sink and hopped into the shower. You could care less about anything else right now, all you wanted was to rinse yourself from the sweat and touch of the guy from the bar and go to bed. 

---

After changing into an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts, you were ready to hit the haystack. Exiting the bathroom, you saw Bucky sat by the edge of the bed in a pair of sweatpants and a white sleeveless shirt that showed off his toned arm and his vibranium-made one that he was cleaning. “I sleep shirtless but I figured you would be too uncomfortable for that.” He spoke up, continuing to wipe the hand of his artificial arm. 

“Right, thanks.” You were the one to answer shortly and headed off to bed, tucking yourself in. “I’ll be sleeping now, Barnes. Don’t do anything stupid.” 

---

You were back at the nightclub, but this time you were in a room that you couldn’t really recognize. You turned your head to see Bucky tied down to a chair with his mouth covered with some sort of tie, unconscious. 

Your brows were furrowed as confusion stirred in your mind, you could hear the music from the nightclub blast from outside the room, “Barnes? Are you still with me?” You called him out, in hopes that he would answer but all you got was silence and a chuckle coming from behind you. 

Goosebumps ran along your skin as you felt cold hands touch your shoulders, caressing your skin until the person's hands reached your neck, squeezing on it rather harshly.. “So you thought you could run, can you?” HIs voice filled with anger as he continued, “Your little boyfriend here has no chance against me. He’s a pathetic little weakling.” He mocked, releasing you from his chokehold and walking in front of you. 

He had this evil smirk on his lips as he leaned in against you, “Big mistake for you to come and fight me, sweets. You’ve no chance against me now.” He said, standing up and placing his grip on your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. 

“Let’s see how strong you are against me, Y/N” 

“一Y/N!” 

And then you suddenly sat up, out of breath and soaked in sweat as you looked around the room, only to see you were still inside the same room you went in with Bucky, who was looking at you in concern, his long hair messy despite being bunched up in a bun. 

You didn’t even hesitate and decided to lean over and hug him tightly, burying your face in the junction of his shoulder and neck as tears brimmed your eyes, “You’re… you’re okay. In my dream you were…” but Bucky didn’t let you finish your sentence, instead he hugged you back, albeit hesitantly, and let you stay in his arms until you calmed down. “I’m here, doll. I’m fine.”

Once you were settled, you pulled back and stared into his eyes, “Has anyone ever told you that you had the coolest blue eyes?” You questioned, laughing softly as you wiped your tears away. His expression, however, puzzled you. He had this look of surprise and disbelief; it took you a moment to register what you had said and when you did, your eyes were wide as saucers. “Wait… your eyes are blue, this room is white… your hair is this beautiful brown… Barnes, you’re my…”

“Soulmate.” was all he said, also in shock as he slowly turned his head around the room to see his surroundings in the color for the first time. He was silent as he set you down on the bed, standing up as he tried to process everything that was happening. He was finally seeing color, after over a century (quite literally), he finally got to see outside the dull and lifeless hues he was always used to. 

Your hand was over your mouth as you were too surprised, your eyes were locked on the black shirt that you were wearing that brightly contrasted to the snow white sheets of the bed that you were in. 

Feeling a dip on the other side of the bed, you turned to the side and met Bucky’s gaze. He was contemplating on whether or not to cup your cheeks since his hand was mid-air so you did the honors and made his hand cup your cheek, your smaller ones holding his in a tight grip as you melted in his touch. “I guess this means you can no longer be the grinch with me then, Buck” 

He laughed softly and pulled you into his arms, securing you in an embrace as he allowed himself to fall back down to the bed, “Well maybe. No promises on that, doll.” 

---

TAGLIST:@gcdricreads​ @lunalovecroft​

[ashenstardust]

What Secrets We Keep CH. 1

I just posted a NSFW fanfiction to my Ao3!

You can read it here.

Summary: After an unusual encounter you allow the Winter Soldier to lie low in your home. You always expected to see him again, but the reunion isn't what either of you expect. Word Count: 4457 Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Elements of mystery, domesticity, slight power dynamics, mild injury.

[lostmonsterart]

Winter solider

[immortalbarnes]

A Cabin For Two | Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x Reader

series summary: you and bucky met in world war two and fell in love, then were winter soldiers under hydra control for years. after the final battle with thanos, you two retire and live together in a cabin out in middle-of-nowhere-New-York

(chapters with smut will be signaled with a *)

prologue

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3*

chapter 4

[scarletxwinter]

Sam, boarding the Quinjet: Another successful mission! And we manage to get out without a single scratch.

Bucky, walking in: Yeah, the mission was too easy, went well very smoothly.

Wanda, looks around and narrows her eyebrows: Uhhhh...Where’s Peter?

Sam & Bucky stops in their tracks and looks around: Uhhh...

*Back in HYDRA base*

Peter stuck to the wall by his own web and dangling upside down: Uhhh...someone help?

[lonelyandlovelorn]

Stranger’s Bed

A/N: This is my first reader insert fanfiction I’ve ever written, so I’m sorry if it sucks. 

Genre: fluff, comfort

Warning: swearing, reference to being drugged

Words: 2500

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem reader

Summary: You wake up in a bed that definitely isn’t yours and try to figure out why your super handsome neighbor is here. 

Masterlist

You weren’t sure where you were. You knew you were in a bed, but you were also pretty sure it wasn’t your bed. It smelled different. Not bad, just kind of… manly? It was a familiar scent, you just couldn’t put your finger on why. All you really knew was that you were in a stranger’s bed, and that it didn’t make sense to you.

The first thing you checked when you woke up was that you weren’t naked in a stranger’s bed, because that would just be another level of bad. Thankfully, you were, in fact, fully clothed. The next thing you checked for was that there was no one else in the room with you and that you had your phone with you. Both of these were true so you had to pause and figure out what to do. Who had put you in their bed? And, since you obviously hadn’t had sex with whoever it was, why did they put you in their bed? Knowing that just staying wrapped in the mysterious stranger’s comforter wouldn’t help you get answers, you got up and started to walk down the hall of an apartment that was pretty similar to yours. You guessed this meant someone in your building had let you in.

It wasn’t until you neared the living room and noticed a picture on the wall that you realized whose apartment you were in. Right there, next to your face was a picture of two guys who were way too attractive for their own good, one blond and the other brunet. You vaguely knew Steve from how often he visited the apartment. Bucky’s apartment. That meant that somehow, Bucky Barnes, God’s gift to women, had let you in and put you into his bed. You knew you were a little tipsy last night, but you definitely didn’t have that much to drink.

“Morning,” you heard a gruff voice from behind you, startling you into a small scream before you caught yourself.

“Jesus Christ, thanks for the heart attack,” you muttered, trying to calm your breathing. Incredibly embarrassed by the entire situation, you glanced up at Bucky through your lashes and asked, “How did I get here last night? I don’t think I drank enough to not remember inviting myself into your bed.”

His face hardened a little from the kind mask that he had worn to greet you, but he fixed it fairly quickly, not wanting to frighten you. “Well, I went with Steve to the bar down the street, where I saw you. There was some creepy guy hovering next to you, and it just didn’t feel right so I walked up to see if you were okay. I don’t know what that asshole did, but you could hardly stand, and you didn’t exactly act like the drunk Y/N I know and love to meet on occasion.” At this, he smirked at you, knowing that when you were drunk, you got really flirty. However, both of you lost your sense of humor at the thought of what could have happened to you last night. He picked back up his story after a moment, “Anyway, I offered to walk you home, but when we got to your door, you couldn’t find your key and I didn’t really want to grope you to find it, so I just brought you in here instead.” He held his hands out in a mix between a “ta-da” and a shrug.

You were pretty embarrassed by the shape you were in, but very grateful to your handsome neighbor for taking care of you and saving you from God knows what. The more you thought about it, the more it scared you. You let out a heartfelt, if slightly shaky, “Thank you”, before you started to panic a little. If Bucky hadn’t been there, hadn’t cared enough to worry about you, this morning could have been very different. You were on the verge of tears when he pulled you into him and wrapped his arms around you, comforting you and holding you up all at once.

“I just feel so stupid. I was feeling a little down and a little lonely, so what did I do? I went to a bar alone, like an idiot. To top it all off, I was obviously an idiot who accepted a drink from a stranger. Horrible things could have happened and it would have been all my fault.” At this point you were sobbing into Bucky’s chest.

“Hey, this is not your fault,” he said softly, grabbing your face gently and looking you in the eyes. “Maybe you shouldn’t have gone alone, but the fact that that guy was a creep is not your fault. Horrible people doing horrible things is never anyone’s fault but theirs. Do you hear me?” You let out a half-hearted nod, still berating yourself for your poor choices, but feeling a little calmer after staring into his gorgeous blue eyes.

He comforted you for a few more minutes before offering to make you some breakfast. “What do you want? Eggs, bacon, omelettes?” He was listing off things, none of which really appealed to you, until he said, “Waffles?” You smiled and nodded excitedly. Waffles were something you didn’t get to eat that often, but you really loved when you had them. He smiled at you indulgently and moved towards the kitchen.

You stopped in the hallway after he left to gather yourself. You were still freaked out by what could have happened last night, but knowing that Bucky had been there for you was like a balm on the freak out that had been building. There was also the fact that your super hot neighbor that you had a major crush on had saved you and let you sleep in his bed. You didn’t want to look too far into that because you knew that he was honestly just a really great guy who would help anyone he saw in danger. But a small part of you wanted to believe that he had brought you here because he might care for you too. Realizing you were getting nowhere with your thoughts, you followed him in to the kitchen.

While watching him move around him kitchen with surprising ease, a thought sprung to mind. “Where did you sleep last night?” You realized he had given you his bed, which meant he had to have slept somewhere less comfortable.

He just shrugged. “The couch.” He could see immediately that you were going to apologize for doing nothing wrong, so he said, “Hey, I put you in my bed and chose to take the couch, don’t feel bad about it.”

“But you’re way too tall for that couch! I could have fit just fine,” you argued, though you realized in the back of your mind that there was no point now.

“I would never let a lady sleep on my couch while I was in the bed, I’m too much of a gentleman,” he said with a grin. You couldn’t help but smile back. Bucky was always attractive, but he was definitely cute when he was happy.

You sat at the counter, watching him prepare the food and hoping he couldn’t hear your stomach growling. For a man who was quite large, he was very graceful in his movement, never faltering with his hands or making mistakes. You were honestly a little jealous of how comfortable he was with his body, before you remembered the look on his face you sometimes saw when people would notice his metal arm or comment on it.

When you first met Bucky, you honestly didn’t notice the fact that his hand was literally made of metal for a couple of days. Even when you did notice, you never commented on it. Everyone has their own insecurities, and while you weren’t sure in the beginning that that was one for him, you never wanted him to feel like you thought he was weird or different. Sometimes though, when you saw Bucky out in public, somebody would notice his arm and stare at him like he was just a statue put there for them to gawk at. In those moments, you could see Bucky’s discomfort in his own body. You also honestly wanted to punch those people sometimes, tired of how they treated him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a cup of coffee and a plate of waffles placed in front of you. They smelled delicious and you smiled gratefully at Bucky before digging in. You didn’t realize how starving you were until you took your first bite of heaven, after which, you practically inhaled your food. You heard him chuckle a little next to you but ignored him in favor of enjoying your breakfast.

“Wow doll, when was the last time you ate?” You blushed a little at the term of endearment but shrugged.

“Sometime yesterday, I guess.” You didn’t want to admit that you had been feeling kind of down yesterday about being alone and your friend canceling plans on you that you didn’t really eat anything after breakfast.

“Alright, I gotta ask, why were you alone at a bar last night? You’re obviously a smart woman, and smart women don’t tend to go to a bar without company and accept drinks from strangers.” He was watching you, trying to figure out why he had found you in that condition. Unfortunately, you didn’t really want to admit why you went alone.

“Ah… it doesn’t matter, don’t worry about it.” You hoped he would let it go, but when you looked over at him, you saw that that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. “Alright fine, my friend cancelled plans with me last to go on a date. I was excited to see her because it’s been a while, but she just ditched me for some guy. I was already at the bar though, so I decided to drown my loneliness and self-pity in a couple of drinks. And then this guy comes up to me an actually pays some attention to me, so my lonely ass decided that I should drink the thing he gave me. After that, I don’t really remember anything, but I assume that’s where you came in.” You finished your story with a sigh, having dropped eye contact with him when you started talking about how lonely you were. You were his neighbor, you knew Bucky didn’t suffer loneliness as much as you did, if you were basing it on the company he had over.

Bucky’s hand came into your line of sight as he grabbed your hand where it was resting on the counter. You were kind of forced to look up at him, because that was obviously what he wanted. When you looked up at him, you saw exactly what you didn’t want to see in his eyes: pity.

“Doll, we all get lonely sometimes. But you’re a gorgeous woman, it can’t be that you don’t get any attention from men.” You laughed a little at that. “I’m serious, there’s no reason a gal like you should be alone.”

“I mean sure, I’ve been asked out before,” you said, shrugging a little, “but it’s never by a guy I want to ask me out.” The last part came out quite softly, hoping that he might not hear it.

“Who do you want to ask you out, then?” asked Bucky, an obtuse male in a sea of obtuse males. You side-eyed him a little bit, but refused to answer aside from telling him that it didn’t matter. “Any guy would be lucky to have you, doll.” After that, you heard him mutter “I would be lucky.” You didn’t think you were supposed to hear that, but it shocked you. You quickly looked at him. He must have realized that you had heard him, because he was blushing under your stare. “I mean, uh… can you just forget you heard that?”

Okay, if you thought happy Bucky was cute, a flustered Bucky was absolutely adorable. You couldn’t help but giggle, but you also were just in disbelief. There was no way that this actual model of a man was interested in you. It would be silly to get your hopes up, so you decided he probably didn’t mean it. You were quiet for a little too long, you realized, as Bucky started stuttering and trying to fix it.

“I-I mean, not that I wouldn’t be lucky, but it’s just that any guy would be lucky, like I said, not just me. And you can just pretend that didn’t happen so that we can stay friends because I don’t want you to be worried that I’m just your friend because I think you’re cute, it’s just…” You saw him panicking, but you got very stuck on one particular thing.

“You think I’m cute?” you asked, interrupting his stream of explanations. You weren’t trying to make him feel more awkward, you were genuinely curious. Your head was cocked to the side and you just looked at him with an open expression.

“Well I thought that was pretty obvious,” he said, blushing and still flustered. After he calmed down a moment, he studied you. “Wait, you really didn’t notice? Doll, I’ve been tripping over you since the first time we met.” He seemed to realize though that he didn’t mean to reveal that much. “This doesn’t have to make things awkward, I won’t try anything, don’t worry.”

“Why won’t you try anything?” you asked, disappointed. That seemed to stump him, obviously not being what he expected. After a moment, though, you saw a small smile on his face.

“Did you want me to try something, doll?” He was smirking at you now, leaning in a little. You nodded absently, watching him come closer, before a thought came into your head that made you pull back.

“I’m not just an easy lay am I? The vulnerable girl that you can fuck and forget the next day?” You really hoped he would say no, but if that was all he wanted you to be, you wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

“What? No, of course not. Doll, you’re the sweetest person I know, and beautiful to boot. I see the protective way you glare at people when they look at me funny and you’re always nice to Stevie,” he said earnestly, looking you in the eyes so you knew he meant it. “And besides, I’d at least like to take you on a date first,” he joked, trying to lighten up the atmosphere.

A smile broke out on your lips as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. As you pulled back, you made eye contact and he gently grabbed your face before pulling you into a sweet kiss. You had long since grown up from expecting fireworks with kisses, but damn his lips were soft and he was so sweet with you. You savored the moment before pulling back.

“So about that date?” He just grinned at you and leaned in to kiss you again.

[just-some-random-blogger]

“What a tsundere.”

Marvel Avengers Bucky Barnes x Architect!Reader Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Summary: Tony decided to remodel the 56th floor of the tower, and so currently, you were designing a lab, a lounge, a kitchen, and two bedrooms, specifically for a 17 year old and a 117 year old, apparently. Tony told you it was an exaggeration, but did warn you that that particular hundred year old called Bucky, acted just as cranky as one, as opposed to his best friend, Steve. Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: Geeky-ness, tsundere, fluff, meanness, angst, bro-ness etc

A/N: In this world, THanOS STAYS AWAY FROM MY BOIS ok

Tony pulled off his sunglasses and motioned around the room, spinning around. “I’ll leave it up to your good judgement where you want to place everything, but I want the lab to maybe have window. I mean, actually I don’t; I’ll keep it closed the whole time, but Pepper says I need to stay in touch with real time and look out the window so...”

I chuckled and nodded, turning to the sketchbook in my hand. “Lucky for her, I already planned to give the lab a big portion of the floor which includes about two windows.” I spoke, showing him a really rough sketch.

Tony couldn’t help but smile, “This is why I love you,” he said, clapping his hands, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Now the bedrooms you can fashion however you see fit, but knowing you, you’d probably want to know the people your building bedrooms for.”

I clicked my tongue and pointed a finger gun at him.

“You called, Mr. Stark?” a voice called from the east side of the floor. A man in a red suit emerged, making me cock my head to the right.

“Oh... are you that spider-man?“ I asked, lips curving up into a wide grin.

He jumped up a little, “Yeah! Wow! You know me, that’s--” “I told her about you, kid, don’t get too cocky.”

I held back a laugh as soon as the masked man’s body deflated. “No actually, I’ve seen your videos on youtube. But I would’ve never guessed you were that dude pushing that bus one in the same; you look unrecognizable in that costume.”

He placed a hand on his hip and pointed at me with the other, “Well, thank you. Mr. Stark gave this to me.”

“What's the things shooting out through your wrist?”

“Ah... uh, webs?”

“Webs!? Hardcore! Have you ever tried designing with it?”

Peter cocked his head to the side, “Uh... not really.”

“What about making it into clothing?”

“Well, if it counts, I use it to patch up holes in my shoes.”

For a moment, I smiled and looked at Tony, because, well it was awkward to look at a masked man, you know. We stood their in silence, only broken when Tony rolled his eyes and groaned, “Take off the m--” he said but stopped, opting to pull of the mask of the boy himself. He flinched at the gesture, waving his hand slowly, and blinked at me awkwardly while I chuckled brightly at him, waving back.

“Peter, this is our neighborhood architect.” Tony said saying my name, mentioning the fact I went to Julliard, skipping the fact he paid for my tuition. “This is the person who's going to be designing your room.” he gestured to boy to introduce himself.

He instead jumped up and fangirled, “Oh so I really am going to have my own room?”

I laughed at his excited reaction as Tony pushed his glasses up back on his face. “I’ll leave you to it then."

It was about a week and three days since I met Peter. At this point, I had full-on designs for every room on the floor, all aside from the other bedroom I had to make. Yes, I had a tentative design for it, but it was very basic and bland. I was waiting for the inhabitant to come back from the mission he had with Steve.

“Can I put a trampoline in my bedroom?“ Peter asked as he ate his sandwich.

“Peter, we’ve been through this,” I scolded as I sketched a portrait of him, curled up in his chair, munching on a bunch of snacks sprawled on the coffee table in front of us. “You can have anything in your room, but a trampoline.”

“But a trampoline is an anything.”

“Peter, the ceiling is too low.”

Peter pouted at that, making me chuckle. 

I was mostly crashing at the the tower, waiting for the return of this guy named Bucky. I huffed at the fact Peter kept shuffling in his place and repositioning himself. “Hey, could you-” I started but halted when Peter turned to me and yet again changed places.

“Sorry, what was that?“ Peter asked, licking the salt of his lips from all the sodium he consumed.

I huffed and shook my head in disapproval, “Nevermind.” I then flipped my sketchbook around and showed him my unfinished sketch of him that’ll be as finished as it’ll ever get.

“OH MY GOSH! THAT’S ME! YOU WERE DRAWING ME?“

I chuckled in agreement.

“WOW! But, why do I have three sets of legs?“ he spoke, getting the object from me, making me throw a pillow at him, which he caught, mind you, thanks to his quick senses. “YOU WOULDN’T STOP MOVING, MORON!”

He pouted, “Well you can continue it,” he handed be back my pad, going into the position he originally was in my sketchbook. “I’ll stay still this time.”

“No! You ruined the moment, now live with the fact you have six legs you arachnid.”

“... is that... did you just make a spiderman pun?“

I shot him a look.

Just then, there was a sound of two voices talking, moving closer to us.

We turned around and saw it was Steve, and with him was probably Bucky.

I sprang up from where I sat, calling out, “Captain!” proceeding to salute him.

Steve smiled wide and saluted back. I jogged over to him and hopped up to reach his shoulders and seal him in a bear hug. We shared a chuckle in our embrace, and once he let me go, I looked him over, “Any injuries?”

“Just some small cuts and bruises.”

I pursed my lips at that, “Well there’s an entire clinic here that I designed to have a band aid dispenser, so...”

“Sick, you designed that?“ Peter said jumping beside me, making me jump slightly as well as chuckle. “Well, yeah, technically. Tony was who actually made the machine though.”

“You collaborated with Mr. Stark. Coool.”

“You must be Bucky,” I turned from Peter to the tall man with blue eyes. I told him my name and stretched my hand out to him, “I’m an architect, and I’m also working on designing your bedroom.” He looked at my hand for a while and turned to Steve who then gave him a face, encouraging him to take my hand. Bucky shook it awkwardly, but I didn’t mind.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to interview you when you’re available. You know, just to know what you would like and dislike for me to put into your room.”

His face hardened a bit, “Right now?”

“Uh, well, if you’d like. But I’m in no particular rush, and you two did just get back, you must be exhausted.”

Steve was supposed to speak, but Bucky beat him to it. “I am, so maybe next time.” the dark haired man spoke, turning about and walking away. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, but I just couldn’t help but fell a snippy iciness in his words.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one, as Peter then huffed and Steve turned from his friend that walked away, to me to apologize. “I’m sorry, he must be cranky over the lack of sleep he had.”

I chuckled, “Hey no worries. I can relate. Now go on, get some rest.” I waved him off, making him smile. “Alright. Keep an eye on Peter.”

“Why would she need to keep an eye on me?” Peter asked and called for Steve as he walked away without a single word.

“No, I don’t want that.”

I huffed, gripping my notebook, “So... could you please just tell me what you want? This is getting frustrating... for the both of us.”

“Listen... all I really need is a bed, nothing fancy.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but when I tell you how the mechanics work, you shoot it down and tell me otherwise.”

I looked at the man who huffed and clenched his jaw, wiping his stubble with his human hand. I pursed my lips and opted to try again, “Okay, let’s not talk about the furniture since I’m not an interior designer. What about the walls? What’s your favorite color, Bucky?”

“Uh... just a plain color will do.”

“Alright, but what is your favorite color?”

“What am I, a child? I don’t need to have one.”

My breath hitched at that. I decided to play it off, “Wow, I must be really childish then because I love every color.”

He turned away from me and scoffed, speaking an barely audible, “Must be.”

I internally cringed and pretended not to hear that, “So, white?”

“They get too dirty easily.”

“Black?”

“Too dark.”

I liked the molars at the back of my mouth and turned away from him, “Grey?”

“Too... sad.”

I looked at him for a moment, then frowned. Once he turned to me, he stiffened and moved back, clenching his jaw tightly. I huffed, “Okay then,” I placed my sketchbook on my lap and clasps my hands together, “so what I’ve gathered is that you don’t like any of the furniture I’ve told you about because they’re needless and too modern for your liking-- understandable. You don’t like any colors either, and I’ve sure you’d hate it if I made your walls all window.”

Bucky turned dot give me an incredulous look, as if I was dumb and giving him a hard time. It  enough to make me tick and get my blood boiling. I moaned in frustration, “So I guess I’ll make this bedroom as basic as I planned it to be in the first place.”

He pulled his head back, “You had a design all along?”

“...”

“And you still asked me for no reason?”

My eyes widened, “Okay, first of all, I asked you because this is a room you will be staying in for a pretty significant amount of time in, so I wanted you to be comfortable in it by modifying it to your needs. Second, the only reason why I have to use this basic design is because you literally gave me nothing to work with, and I-” Bucky stood up, “I guess we’re done then.”

I scoffed, “I guess we are.”

“Bucky doesn’t hate you.” Steve said, making me roll my eyes.

“He does, and for no reason. I literally was nothing but nice, understanding, and respectful to him, and he just-” I cut myself off with a groan. I shoved a spoon into my mouth and viciously chewed on some Frosties as Steve took a sip of his black coffee.

He placed the warm thing in between his hands and breathed out, “I’ll talk to him. Maybe he was still just tired and put out his frustrations on you.”

I turned to my bowl then to Steve, pouting, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

Steve smiled back, “No problem.

The elevator door dinged and a man with black hair and blue eyes came into view. I was about to greet him, up until he walked in next to me and snarled, “You told Steve I was rude to you?”

My brows raised as I glues by eyes to the man who roughly pressed a number that was approximately just three floors above ours.

“I was being honest. I can’t believe you acted like a such a tattle tail.” his voice was laced in apparent annoyance.

I chuckled out a scoff, “Excuse me?”

The elevator dinged and came to a stop. “You’re excused.” he spoke, getting out of the door, leaving me stunned as it automatically shut again.

“I think he likes you.” Peter said, as I walked over to the head engineer, making me stop in my tracks. I shot him a death glare to which he only shrugged, “You like anime. He’s just a tsundere.”

I looked up, preparing to roll my eyes, but decided he wasn’t worth the trouble. “Listen, Pete. If you’re just going to talk about Bucky and be a bother while I work, you might as well just leave.”

“Noooo! I really want to see how everything is done. Please don’t make me leave.”

I turned to the boy you walked close behind me, “Plus, you said we could put web designs in my room, so... teach me the architecture ways, sensei.” he spoke, placing a fist in his palm and bowing, making me burst into laughter.

“Ah, young Padawan, you have much to learn.”

“What the hell is a tundire?” Bucky blurted to Steve, butchering the Japanese term.

“A what?” Steve turned to his best friend, putting the afternoon paper down.

“Peter told me I was a one, then shot a web, and swung away.”

“Pal, it’s probably lingo I can’t help you with because I don’t know it either.”

Bucky huffed, “Can’t you pull out your phone and search it? It’s why I came to you in the first place.”

“You came to me about that?”

“Well I can’t really ask Peter now can I?”

Steve huffed and pulled out the complicated device out of his pocket, “Why does this bother you so much, anyway? It probably isn’t even important or something we’ll get, knowing Peter.”

It matters because it involves me and the pretty architect, apparently. “I have to know so I have solid grounds to beat some sense into that teenager.”

Steve snickered, “Okay grandpa.”

“Shut up,” Bucky pushed his shoulder, “You’re worse.”

“That’s true.”

After a few minutes of trying to remember how google works, Steve remembered the voice recognition app that was way easier. Steve pushed the phone to Bucky’s face, “Say the word you said.”

“Sun-di-re.” he pronounced slowly, making Steve pull back, “That’s not what you said.”

“I don’t-” “Did you mean tsundere?” the phone spoke, making Bucky perk up. “THAT’S WHAT HE SAID.”

Steve turned from his friend to his phone, smiling, thanking the girl who taught him how to do this, triggering Bucky.

“Why are you thanking her?”

Steve turned his best friend, more suspicious about him and his feelings about the girl. Bucky had been needlessly rude to the said architect, and Steve thought he was just tired and cranky, but now he was thinking that he maybe left his suave in the sixties and decided this was how to flirt with a woman.

“She was who taught me this trick.” the blonde said, nonchalant.

Bucky narrowed his eyes but decided to say anything.

The app then lead them to the meaning of the Japanese word.

“Tsundere (ツンデレ, pronounced [tsɯndeɾe]) is a Japanese term for a character development process that describes a person who is initially cold (and sometimes even hostile) before gradually showing a warmer, friendlier side over time.” Steve read out.

After further inspection, Bucky’s face fell and Steve started laughing.

“Dude, you are totally a tsundere.”

“I am not! I don’t like her!”

“Ahhh, and that’s another symptom.”

“Shut up!” Bucky shouted, standing up, “There is no way I could ever like a girl like her!” 

Slowly, I emerged from the kitchen, sneaking slowly to the door, not to get caught. Big mistake though, because how could I sneak when there was no where to sneak behind and the only way from the kitchen to the exit was past the two bickering tall men who were by the couch, oh right in front of me?

The two whipped their head in my direction and I chuckled nervously. “Right.” I pointed to the door. “I’m just gonna-” I then skedaddled.

“No wait--” Bucky spoke softly, making Steve chuckle.

“You know Buck,” he stood up, “just because we’re in the 21st century doesn’t mean a woman can’t fall for old fashioned charm.”

With this, the man with the metal arm sighed, “I... I panic when I’m around her Steve, I don’t know what to do.”

Steve placed his arm over his best friend’s shoulders, “Well, you can start by being a man and apologizing.”

Bucky chuckled, nodding his head, “Right. That’s a good start. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“I do,” Steve said, bursting into tune, “L is for the way you look at me.”

The two smiled and turned to each other, “O is for the only one I see...”

[pietrotheavenger]

roommates (bucky barnes)

LOST

summary: the mundanity of being roommates with bucky.

pairings: au!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

a/n: sorry for ghostin all i’ve been doing lately is listening to blackbear and being moody

series masterlist

bucky could not find an appropriate moment to talk to y/n about everything that happened for months. all of a sudden, she became insanely busy. she was always either off chasing around ms. potts or cuddled up next to steve in the next door apartment. meanwhile, bucky dove headfirst into his work at banner labs in an attempt to avoid his heartache. if he stayed still for too long he could feel his chest tightening and his heart physically hurting. at home, he would listen to various podcasts and shower the finn the orange boy cat with his affection. he rarely ever saw her but when he did, the persistent feeling of dread went away for a moment. when she left again, it hit him hard and ten times worse than it was before. but he didn’t mind getting his heartbroken by his favorite girl.

more often than not, she would come home late. bucky would try to stay up until he saw her set foot inside the door. he needed to know that she was safe. he needed to see her, even if it was a simple as them both exchanging tired smiles before retiring to their own rooms.

sometimes when she came home, he was fast asleep on the couch, with finn curled up into him. she would kneel down in front of the couch and brush his overgrown hair out of his eyes. “bucky,” she would say softly. his eyes would flutter open and see her. what a sight it was to bucky! the side of her face was illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the curtains since neither of them bothered to close the blinds ever. the lipstick around the edges of her lips was faded. the circles under her eyes were as prominent as ever. all he wanted to do was to tell her how in love he was with her. but he held his tongue. “you should get to sleep,” she would tell him, and then kiss his forehead. he knew that her lipstick left a mark but he couldn’t care less.

he looked high and low for opportunities to tell her the unwanted truth. he asked her if she was free during her lunch breaks and her co-worker maria would join them for panini’s at y/n’s favorite cafe. he asked her if they could have a movie night and in the time that it had taken bucky to pop a bag of popcorn, steve was situated on the couch. finn regarded him inquisitively from the coffee table, his tail swinging behind him. if steve made any attempt to touch him, finn would hop away. bucky decided that finn didn’t like steve. “you and me both, buddy,” bucky said to finn on one occasion. he asked her if they could go out for drinks and she invited their friends. at some point, he gave up bothering trying to get her alone. his intention was never to keep her in the dark. he wanted to tell her everything but it seemed like the stars were never going to align for them.

“hey honey,” bucky cooed, gently rubbing behind finn’s ears. it was a late july afternoon. the sound of the ac reverberated around the apartment and he felt relief to be standing in the cold.

finn meowed in response.

“i miss her, too,” he whispered, sorrowfully smiling. he sighed heavily as he raked a hand through his hair before changing out of his work clothes and into a pair of basketball shorts. he didn’t bother putting on a shirt.

he grabbed a bowl of fruit from the fridge before settling onto the floor in front of the tv. brooklyn nine-nine played mindlessly in the background as bucky played around with finn, who after a day of sleeping in y/n’s pile of pillows was fully energized.

“ah, fuck!” bucky exclaimed when the cat scratched his chest in order to get the watermelon in his hand. he dropped it away from him and finn happily hopped over bucky to it. “big head,” bucky muttered under his breath as he examined the scratch. his hands were covered in scratches from play fighting with him. they weren’t painful but they definitely stung.

the cat then managed to paw himself onto bucky’s lap and meow up at him. “oh, so now you wanna be my friend?” he rolled his eyes as he sweeped him up into his arms. he booped his nose and finn attempted to bite his finger. “finnegan! hurting my feelings,” bucky pouted.

just then, the door slammed opened. he raised his head to see y/n breezing through the doorway, her sundress swishing around her. he smiled, but it immediately fell from his face when he saw what state she was in. she was completely disheveled, her eyes wild with thought as she brushed a few sweaty strands of hair away from her eyes.

“hey, everything good?” he questioned as she wrestled off her sandals.

“uh,” her voice quivered as the straps finally came undone. she let the shoes fall to the floor. she stood in the entryway. he could tell that she was uncomfortable and it hurt him. he never wanted her to be uncomfortable around him. “steve’s moving to seattle.”

his eyebrows immediately shot up as he let out a whistle, “that’s a bit far away.” he let his gaze fall on finn, who he was still holding.

“yeah, and he asked me to move with him.”

his breath hitched in his throat and his mouth was dry. he tried his best to keep his breath steady. he swallowed hard and opened and closed his mouth several times but he just didn’t know what to say. he didn’t want her to go. he looked up at her, hoping that the desparation in his eyes conveyed what he was feeling. her eyes were teary and she looked broken.

“i don’t know what to do,” her voice cracked and the tears began falling. she placed her hand on her mouth and turned away from him, trying to hide her sobs.

“oh, honey,” he sighed. he set finn down before getting up and walked over to her. he pulled her into his chest and held her tight. “you don’t need to hide from me.”

“i just feel so lost all the time,” she choked out.

he hummed back. after a moment he pulled away and wiped away her tears. “my brave girl,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “i know it’s hard,” he added. “but i also know that you’ll make the right decision for yourself.”

“can we lay down?” she asked. “i miss you.”

“yeah,” he smiled softly. moments later they were laying on bucky’s bed facing each other. y/n’s hands were tucked under her head. he had one of his hands on her waist, rubbing small circles.

“i don’t know what to do,” she repeated.

“you have to think about in the long run. seattle versus new york. washington versus new york. the job opportunities. and, you know, whether or not you’re willing to take the next step in your relationship,” he told her, his voice low.

“none of that matters, bucky.”

“what are you talking about?” his eyebrows were furrowed.

“how am i supposed to leave you?”

his heart stopped for a split second. no more playing dumb or beating around the bush. “y/n, we need to talk.”

“i know, bucky.”

permanent tags:

@ssweet-empowerment ; @httpmcrvel ; @stardustandbucky ; @almighty-rogers ; @iamkingkillmonger ; @abuckyrogersworld ; @freightcarcap ; @mal-functioning-writer ; @c-a-v-a-l-r-y ; @coffeebooksandfandom ; @somethingmoreclever ; @2dreamcatcher8 ; @illegalportkey ; @uservalkyrie ; @fuckthatfeeling ; @xxashy999xx ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @tuliptx ; @wwhitewwolff ; @kingdomcage ; @thisismysecrethappyplace ; @appreciating-chase-brody ; @renanyx ;

roommates tags:

@goodiebluebox ; @tuttigunner ; @wisestydia-15 ; @leaningtowerof-not-pisa ; @callmedaddys-blog ; @letsbestupidforever ; @highfuncti0ningfangirl ; @liffydaze ; @capisicles ; @randomfangirl1701 ; @redstarstan ; @justreadingthesefanfics ; @wearemightyghosts ; @directionerfae ; @coonflix ; @aurorcarter ; @caurerphernelia ; @anastassimuse ; @bllaackkgliiitterrr ; @maladaptive-ninja-returns ; @mybearyarmy ; @lokissoul ; @xnegansgirlx ; @shaboibucky ; @steve-hasmyheart ; @awwwwinnn1 ; @everythingbooknerd ; @the-whitewolfie ; ​@jepenner ; ​@im-a-light-child ; ​@captainam-erika-trash ; @sadanddeadsoul ; @feelmyroarrrr ; @infinity-star-wars ;

[christinky]

Heartbreak and Panic | Part 2

Part 1| Part 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of dead (Briefly) 

Summary: After Bucky broke your heart, you learn he is missing. You and Steve start to search for him. You find it to almost be the worst case scenario. 

A/N: I decided to make this 3 parts because part 1 seemed pretty popular. :)

As you make your way to Steve’s motorcycle you start to worry, all this is so unlike Bucky. “I called Stark on my way over,” Steve starts to explain, you can sense worry in his voice as well, “He is having FRIDAY hack into his phone, see if there is anything on there or if we can locate it.” 

“You asked Stark for help?” You stop walking from shock, “He is helping us willingly? Him and Bucky aren’t exactly the best of friends.” 

Steve hops on his bike, putting his helmet on and gesturing for you to hop on.”I know but he thinks this is weird too.” You walk over and hop on the bike behind Steve. He hands you a helmet, “Besides, its not like he has anything better to do.” Steve laughs at his comment, you roll your eyes. 

“Found anything?” Steve asks Tony as the two of you walk into the room. The room is filled with holograms and computer screens, all with Bucky’s information. 

Tony stands and starts making his way over to you, “I got into his phone, there is some things I want you to see,” You guys meet Tony half way, he pulls out a hologram. Going through some files, he finds what he is looking for. “We found these strange messages in his voicemail.”

Pressing play, a creepy voice echoes within the room, “Hello Soldier,” Its in a Russian accent, you stomach drops. You know what this must be, looking over to Steve you see a blank stare, he looks like a ghost he is so pale. “You thought you were free didn’t you?” 

The voicemail finishes. Nothing else. It was so ominous, you hold back tears knowing how this must have effected Bucky. He was so happy thinking he was finally done with Hydra and being a monster. Bucky is still recovering from everything they put him through, he was moving on. Moving on with you. You breathing starts to get more rapid with the thoughts of what is happening. 

Looking back at Steve he is staring at the floor, eyes wide in fear. He knows too. “Steve...” he turns to you, he looks like a sad puppy, “We need to find him.”

“And that was just one of them,” Stark get your attention. 

“Just one?” You ask in a panic, “How many are there?” 

“That was the first, the only one that was opened.” He shows Bucky’s inbox on the screen, “There is about 20 others, then they must have reached capacity.” 

Your limbs start to go weak, you try to think of where he would go. Your head shoots up looking at Tony, “Can you track it?”

Tony’s expression shows disappointment, “It tracks to his apartment, he must have left it there.” 

You rub your face is disbelief, this is going to be a lot harder than you thought. It starts to make sense to you, why Bucky said those hurtful words to you. He didn’t want to hurt you, he must have figured hurting you like this was better than the other scenario. You don’t prefer either one, you want Bucky safe, you want to be wrapped in his arms again, you want him back with you, to be happy again. 

Tony has FRIDAY searching for anything related to hydra that has popped up in the past couple months. Steve helps go through the results, seeing if anything could be useful. Over to the side, there is a screen with displaying photos from Bucky’s phone. Walking over, a slight smile appears on your face. Its filled with sadness but it shows a sign of happiness still inside you. On the screen is a photo of the two of you laughing, you start swiping through the photos. A single tear escapes your eye, you are trying so hard to be brave for Bucky. However, seeing these pictures break your heart, the two of you were so happy together, the memories gave you hope that you can eventually return to being like that.

Steve looks over at you, sees you slowly looking at the pictures. You don’t notice since your back is to him, but Steve looks at you with empathy, he looks at you like you are broken. He knows how you feel, he knows how bad you are hurting. 

“Sir,” FRIDAY’s voice bursts throughout the room, “You need to see this.” Her voice was urgent. It startles all three of you, grabbing your attention quickly. Thats when on the largest monitor ‘Breaking News’ pops up. 

The newscaster’s voice comes on, “This just in, the famous Winter Soldier has been confirmed to be dead,” A video appears showing the Winter Soldier falling from a helicopter in the middle of the ocean. Your heart picks up, your pulse is racing, you stay strong continuing to hold back your tears. You won’t cry here. You can feel yourself go weak, it takes everything you have to stay standing. “He fell into the ocean at 2pm today, his body has yet to resurface. He is being pronounced dead as lost at sea. They are sending drones down to search for his remains.” 

Before breaking down you look at the video again. Looking closely you notice something. “Hold on!” You yell, pushing Tony and Steve out of the way, they are both frozen, Steve looking like he might breakdown any moment. “FRIDAY, go back to the video, zoom in as much as you can to Bucky” You command.

Once he is in focus you see it, “Look!” you point out to his arm, “Thats his Hydra arm” You turn your head to look at Steve, he leans in to get a better look. “That arm was destroyed, he wears the one Shuri made him in Wakanda.” 

“He could have gotten a new arm,” Tony’s comment doesn’t faze you, you are proving your point. 

You continue, “True, but that one looks years old, like he has been wearing it for years. Also look at the hair.” You grab the boys attention again, directing them to the screen, “It looks really ratty, like it hasn’t been cared for in months. Plus it looks a lot lighter than Bucky’s. We both know he took really good care of his hair. It would never look that dry and ratty. It would take weeks of neglect for that to happen.” 

Both guys look at you with a bit of confusion and amazement. You stand tall, regaining your composure knowing that Bucky is still out there. “She is right, that isn’t him. That could be why the camera is positioned in a way we can’t see his face at all.” Steve agrees with you, you let out a sigh of relief knowing you aren’t crazy. 

“FRIDAY! Anything on a location of Hydra?” You ask with a sense of urgency. Looking at Tony and Steve you explain your theory, “Obviously someone wants us to think he is dead, wether it is him or Hydra. That means they are getting close. If we can find Hydra, we find Bucky.” 

FRIDAY finally gives an answer, she pulls up a map, “This is the most likely location I can find, going through possible associates and strange transactions with Hydra’s history. The building is in the middle of nowhere, owned by the cousin of Hydra’s last leader. There has been traffic coming and going from the establishment I picked up from security camera’s” 

“Alright boys,” You save the location and walk out, walking right between them, “Lets go.” 

Heartbreak and Panic Taglist: @crazyinspiration

Forever Taglist: @saturn-aka-six